


Family Matters

by thelovelylydia



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-03 13:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelovelylydia/pseuds/thelovelylydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister are from completely different world: Sansa is a proud Stark relocated to King's Landing and whose family is rocked by tragedy, Tyrion Lannister is a family embarrassment hidden away in the recesses of his family's auto business. When Sansa and Tyrion's worlds intersect, however, they find their differences can aid one another. Modern AU. Sanrion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU inspired by a piece of art and a suggestion wildhoneyfitri (.tumblr.com) left on tumblr like two months ago. I was super excited about the idea and wanted to do it. It was artwork of a cheerleader Sansa and a punk Tyrion, and I was like hmmmm. If you don't like modern AUs, please don't flame this. I did my best to make sure I tag this as best I could about it being a modern AU. Reviews, comments, and critiques are always welcome! I hope you guys enjoy this! With all my love, Lydia

“Sansa Stark, keep your head up, and for the Sevens’ sakes girl, smile!” Cersei Lannister, the head coach for King’s High School bore down on the auburn haired cheerleader. “You may be graduating in two weeks’ time, but we have competition well into the summer.”

       “Yes, Ms. Cersei,” Sansa ducked her head as she went to the back of the formation. She let out a sigh and twisted her head side to side to crack her neck. She shook her limbs out and bounced a little, trying to shake the lack of concentration from her muscles.

       “Don’t let her get to you,” Margaery, the dark haired beauty of the cheer squad whispered as she passed.

       “One more time, girls,” Cersei cried, clapping her hands and yelling out a four count. Sansa was quick to follow her fellow cheerleaders, keeping in mind to stretch her long neck and plaster a smile across her pale round face. She slipped into the routine which had been practiced for months, ever since the basketball had finished its season.

       “Girls, keep your smiles up. Quick, sharp movements!” Cersei shouted as she walked around the mat the girls performed on. She clapped her hands in time to their movements, her long luscious blonde hair sweeping behind her.

       Sansa moved toward the center of the mat where several girls were forming a triangular position. Several lifted Margaery into their arms, sending the girl soaring into the air. She jumped up, her arms flying out beside her body; her curled brown ponytail whipped around her shoulder as the girls below caught her feet and held her high. After four beats they tossed her up and she spun right into the waiting net of their arms. They quickly performed the last few beats of the choreography, and reunited one more time to lift Margaery up, she held her fist skyward and her knee tucked to her chest. Sansa was one of the girls who was her base at this moment in the routine, holding onto the back of the girl’s left shoe tightly. Sansa was the tallest girl in the squad and was often stuck toward the back of the crew. She didn’t mind for the finale; she was able to hide most of her face behind the arms raised to keep Margaery in air. Several other girls posed in front of the triangle, their bodies bent at dramatic angles as they pointed to their cheer captain.

       “Well, you girls did a little better this time,” Cersei replied wryly, crossing her arms over her slender body. “We clearly need to keep practicing. As well as getting you guys to pay attention. Or do we need an extra-long session of practice?”

       “No, coach.” The girls muttered as they let Margaery down and assembled themselves in front of their beautiful director.

       “Then prove it next time you come to the mats. Now hurry up and get out of here.” Cersei replied. “Except for you, Sansa.”

       Sansa looked over at Margaery who was gathering her duffel bag against the wall. The girl shrugged her slender shoulders before placing her bag over one and heading off to the locker rooms.

       “Coach, you, uh, wanted to speak to me?”

       “Is that how you did cheer up at Winterfell High School? Sloppy and depressed?” Cersei’s green eyes caused Sansa’s skin to crawl in fear as she shook her head.

       “No. And this has been my second year here at KHS, I thought maybe I was—“

       “Did I ask you what you thought?” Cersei asked.

       “No.” Sansa shook her head.

       “Sansa, I am not saying this to be harsh and hard on you. My cheerleading coach was as hard on me as I am on you. Because she saw my potential.” Cersei placed a hand on Sansa’s arm. “She wanted me to do well. And I just want you to do well, Sansa. And that takes a lot of hard work and dedication.”

       “I understand, Ms. Cersei.” Sansa nodded her head.

       “I pull you out because I want to make you better,” Cersei’s smile always appeared warm at first, but as Sansa looked closer she wondered why it was so iced underneath.

       “I appreciate your effort to make me a better performer.”

       “I know you will not disappoint me, Sansa.” Cersei replied. “Now, go off and get changed. We have a long day of practice tomorrow morning.”

       “Of course, Ms. Cersei.” Sansa nodded her head, running off as soon as Cersei let her go. She pulled her grey duffel bag with a the shadow of her former school’s Wolf silhouette on the side over her shoulder and walked out the side gym door.

       “So, how bad did you get it?” Margaery interrupted Sansa’s nervous mental run-through of her routine in hopes of finding what she needed to correct.

       “Oh, Ms. Cersei just wants to me succeed. That’s all.” Sansa blushed as she looked over into Margaery’s brown eyes.

       “I am sure she does. That’s probably what she always says to you.” Margaery raised her eyebrow in disbelief.

       “She said that she saw potential in me and wanted me to get better, that’s all. She said that she reminded me of her at her age.”        

       “What? About to give birth to Robert Baratheon’s baby?” Margaery’s mocking laughter was as musical as her genuinely joyful one.

       “That is Mayor Robert Baratheon!” Sansa replied. “And I am sure she was talking about her cheer career.”

       “Sansa, she didn’t get a cheer career because she was knocked up before she even graduated.” The other girl rolled her eyes.

       “Well, I think Joffrey’s a positively wonderful person.” Sansa replied. “And I think it’s rude to laugh at such a situation.”

       “I wasn’t laughing at the situation, but her suggestion that her life was similar to hers.” Margaery shook her head. “I mean, your father would kill you if you came home pregnant.”

       “Would,” Sansa replied, the word hollow and bitter in her mouth.

       “Oh god,” Margaery clasped her hand over her pink mouth. “Oh shit, Sansa, I didn’t mean to—I mean, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Your dad was a great person and he’ll so be missed and—“

       “It’s okay, Margaery.” Sansa replied her look showed her irritation. “I am not a fragile baby. I understand that you didn’t mean to…it happened like six months ago.”

       “Yeah, but your dad was shot by a gang, that’s a bit more than just a heart attack or a car accident.” Margaery reasoned with her.

       “And even further reason I don’t really want to talk about it.” Sansa replied, pushing the uncomfortable memory away from her with a smile.

       “Did Queen Cersei keep you two late again?” Sansa and Margaery were startled by the voice of a smaller girl leaning against the gym wall. She was dressed in a dirty gold and red rugby outfit, a leaping stag silhouetted across her chest and King’s written in cursive. Her knee high yellow socks were grass stained and muddy, her black shoes more brown than their base color.

       “Arya!” Sansa looked over her sister. “Why are you so dirty?”

       “It rained outside so the rugby fields were super muddy.”

       “You could have showered at the locker room.” Sansa’s blue eyes were wide in horror as she looked over her sister’s short, chopped brown hair now caked in mud. “Robb is not going to want you in his car.”

       “Robb won’t care. Plus, my sport isn’t as ‘clean and dainty’ as yours.” Arya rolled her grey eyes.

       “I have to get going,” Margaery replied as she looked over at Arya. “Loras will be waiting out in the parking lot to pick me up.”

       “I thought Renly was going to come and get you?” Sansa asked. Renly was Mayor Baratheon’s youngest brother, and was five years older than Margaery. Everyone got a kick out of the ‘scandalous’ relationship between the only Tyrell girl and the Barathoen boy.

       “No, he said he had something else to do.” Margaery replied. “So Loras is finally acting like a good big brother.”

       “Go, then!” Sansa smiled as she shooed her friend.

       “I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” Margaery asked.

       “Of course, go!” Sansa gave her friend a quick hug. Margaery then turned and ran down the hall. Her crimson skirt bouncing against the back of her bare legs.

       “C’mon, we should go, too. I’m starving!” Arya whined.

       “I have to go get my books out of my locker.” Sansa replied

       “You couldn’t bring them to the gym with you?” Arya replied, annoyance lacing her voice.

       “Well, I was a bit…distracted.” Distracted by the beautiful Joffrey Baratheon. Sansa smiled to herself as she walked forward. Her shorter sibling followed after her.

       “I don’t understand why you even have homework. Aren’t you graduating in like three weeks?”

       “More like five,” Sansa rolled her eyes. “But you wouldn’t understand, you’re just a freshman.”

       “I am sure I don’t understand at all, excuse me.” Arya’s tone suggested anything but an apology.

       “Just wait in the lobby, I’ll be back soon.”

       “Fine,” Arya crossed her arms as they passed the lobby. She took a seat on a bench against the wall as the two passed. “Just don’t let me get old and die waiting for you.”

       “Get over yourself,” Sansa rolled her eyes.

       She made her way down the senior hallway and discovered it was not as empty as she expected. Joffrey Baratheon was at his locker, several boys were leaning against the lockers next to and adjacent to his open one. His green eyes were sparkling as he joked with his friends, and he occasionally ran a hand through his close cut and cropped hair. His warm white smile enveloped his chiseled cheeks and chin.

       “Sansa!” Joffrey cried out as he saw her, pushing through his friends.

       “Hello, Joff.” Sansa went to her locker, keeping her distance between her and the boy.

She felt a little awkward whenever she spoke to Joffrey, even though her heart breathed and lived for him. As soon as she laid eyes on him her first day here at King’s High School after transferring from Winterfell High School after her parents relocated to King’s Landing for her father’s promotion, Sansa knew she was destined to marry the eldest Baratheon. Her father, however, did not want her to even speak to the Baratheon boy, saying he was filled with cruelty and arrogance. He told Sansa to trust him as the Chief Sheriff when she asked him for proof, his grey eyes had pleaded with her to just leave him alone. But it was so hard when Joffrey was so beautiful.  

“Mom said you guys worked really hard today. I asked her how you were doing, and she says that she thinks you’re a star in the making.”

“That was sweet of her.” Sansa could feel her cheeks turning red.

“I mean, she is not one to lie,” Joffrey leaned against the locker next to Sansa’s as she opened her own and pulled out her packed backpack. She had left her backpack and little homework in her bag in case something like this would happen on her way to get her things, Joffrey being alone in the hallway and giving her some excuse to talk to him. If only he didn’t have all those friends with him.

“Hey, Sansa, I have a question for you.” Joffrey smiled as he looked her over. She was in her cheerleading outfit which included a crimson skirt like Margaery’s and a cheerleading top that was based crimson and striped gold and black in the center. KHS was written across her breasts in gold lettering with black outline. The top was just short enough to show part of her midriff.

“Yeah, what?” Sansa looked into Joffrey’s green eyes.

“Do you have a date to the prom?” He asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“Would you like to go as my date?” He leaned against the locker and crossed his arms over his jersey which bore his baseball number.

“Yeah-yeah, of course! I’d love to.”

“That makes me so happy, Sansa.” He leaned forward to place a peck on her cheek. “Are you walking toward the front?” He asked as he noticed Sansa had shut her locker door.

“I am. Arya, my sister, is waiting up there for me.”

“Let me escort you.” He smiled, holding out his elbow for her to ceremoniously take. “I’ll see you later guys!”

Sansa wrapped her arm around his, and the two walked down the short hallway together. When they made it to the front of the school they were greeted by not only Arya, but a short man who stood with his arms crossed and a perturbed look on his stunted features.

Ayra jumped up and came to her sister’s side as Joffrey let go of her arm and stepped forward to confront the dwarf. “It’s the Imp!” Arya whispered loudly.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded.

She could not help her curiosity and looked over to the small man. He had on grease stained jeans, ripped at the knees and showing the tops of his stunted calves. Atop he wore a ripped black tank top with a gold stripe and a red stripe across the chest. He wore a crimson button up which was unbuttoned and opened with a name tag on it which read Tyrion. It was indeed Joffrey’s uncle. All Sansa knew about him was that he was ten years younger than his sister and her lookalike cousin Jaime Lannister, meaning he was eight years older than Joffrey and Sansa, and that Tyrion was the shame of the family.

“I didn’t need you to come into the school, uncle.” Joffrey replied. “You should have just waited outside.”

“I called you three times, Joffrey. Your grandfather is only letting me off for a half hour, I am needed back in the shop now!” Tyrion’s voice was low and full of warning.

“Perhaps if you had gone to school you wouldn’t be needed in the shop.”

“Get out to the car, Joff.” Tyrion replied, his dark eyebrows crossing on his hooded brow.

“I can call my mother if you are going to be so demanding about coming to get me. I am the mayor’s son after all.” Sansa could not believe Joffrey’s indignance, though perhaps he and his uncle spoke to each other this way all the time, and it was okay. She knew that her mother would never let her speak to Rob or her half brother Jon that way.

“But not the mayor himself. Your mother is getting ready for the city wide benefit tonight and she is too busy to get you. She rushed out of here after her cheerleading session to get ready. Your father needed her home promptly.”

“Of course he did,” Joffrey sneered as he looked down at the smaller man. Sansa did not like the tension between them.

“I am sorry, Mr—“ Sansa paused for a moment, then rushed forward in case her nerves got the best of her. “It was my fault. Joff was talking to me and I kept him a little later .We are also making our ride late, so please, just offer him a little grace.”

“You’re one of my sister’s cheerleaders, I take it.” Tyrion’s gaze gentled as he looked her over.

“I’m Sansa Stark,” Sansa offered her name.

“Stark? As in Eddard Stark’s daughter? I am sorry for your loss, dear one.”

“Uncle, don’t apologize. The whole reason he died was because he was sticking his nose in places he didn’t belong. Sansa knows this, and I am sure if her kid sister had any sense she would too.” Joffrey was surprising Sansa with his cruel bluntness, she was trying to chalk it up to nerves regarding the benefit he would be attending tonight and the statewide baseball game he would be leading his team through tomorrow as star pitcher and team captain. That would certainly make me testy.

“If I had any sense I’d think you’re an asshat. Which it’s a good thing I do have an ounce of it. It’s my sister here who is lacking.” Arya’s response elicited a smirk from Tyrion. “I’m Arya Stark!” Arya offered. “Are you the Imp?”

“Arya!” Sansa scolded.

“I am, little Stark girl. Are your curiosities satiated now?” Tyrion looked over at the smaller girl.

“To an extent.” Ayra replied.

“Good. I am glad I could entertain someone. Now my idiot nephew and I must go, or his father is going to be very upset with me for not getting him home in time. It’s a bit too late to appease my father.”

“You’ve disappointed him since birth,” Sansa heard Joffrey mutter. Tyrion’s cheeks burned red as he looked up at his nephew.

“Enough quips, get out to the car!” Tyrion turned to Sansa and Arya. “I apologize for my nephew’s horrid behavior, but I do hope you two ladies have a wonderful evening.” Tyrion caught Sansa’s eye again. “And I truly am sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replied, as she watched Joffrey storm out through the front doors. Tyrion waddled after him, trying to keep up with his quick nephew.

“So he does exist,” Arya said with amusement.

“There is no need to be cruel, Ary. He has a deformity, it’s not his fault.”

“Did I say anything about faults?” Arya shook her head. “I’m just saying, I saw the living King’s High School legend.”

“Arya Lyanna Stark!” Sansa scolded her.

“Come on, princess! Robb’s not gonna wait much longer.” Arya pinched her sister’s arm, ignoring Sansa’s scolding and running out to the lane in front of the school’s main entrance, throwing the doors open in front of her. Sansa followed her, pausing only when she saw Tyrion driving a beautiful red car past the beat up grey Corolla containing Robb. Sansa could not help but find her curiosity piqued; Arya was right. She and her sister had just witnessed King’s High School’s living urban legend.

And he was quite real.

 

 


	2. Lost and Lonely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My readers are so kind. Here is another chapter of Family Matters for this Thursday. Thank you for the reviews that were left and the amount of favorites and follows already! I have the best readers out there! :) - Lydia

"Arya, what did I tell you about wearing your dirty uniform to the table. March up those stairs, young lady, and change into some more appropriate clothing." Catelyn Stark commanded her youngest daughter. Arya obeyed her mother and huffed out of the small dining room. Catelyn looked frayed and frazzled, but managed to keep a sense of elegance in her looks despite her stress. Sansa hoped that she would become half as beautiful as her mother someday.

"Mom!" Bran's voice could be heard down the hall, the clicking of his dog, Summer's nails on the hardwood floors of the hallway accompanied his call. "I can't find where I put my math textbook."

"Is that something we need to worry about this moment?" Catelyn called. Sansa was in the room with her mother, quietly setting the table for her siblings. She thought of them as she laid out the plates; _Robb, Jon, me, Arya, Bran, Rickon, Mom….Father_.She could not fight the instinct to lay down a plate for her absent father. She saw her mother's blue eyes spot the plate and glance at her, but Catelyn said nothing.

"When is Jon coming home?" Arya whined, as she returned to the dining room in a t-shirt representing the Winterfell Wolves and a pair of ripped jeans.

"He should be coming home any minute now, Arya." Their mother clearly was impatient with her youngest one today.

As if on cue the sound of a car door shutting could be heard outside and Arya jumped to her feet, eager to greet her half-brother as soon as he came through the door. Arya's exit was countered by their eldest brother Robb entering with Rickon on his hip. The five year old was clearly ready for something to eat as he fussed in his older sibling's arms.

"Robb, put Rickon down. He is able to walk all by himself."

"I was just giving him a ride to the table, Mom," Robb held his hand out to their mother, welcoming her close for an embrace. She took the offer and received a kiss on the cheek when her son pulled her close. "The way father used to give them."  
"You aren't father," Bran was wheeling into the kitchen in his titanium wheelchair, a gift his father had spent long days at the office trying to provide for his son.

Sansa knew that her younger brother was depressed by the loss of his legs; he used to be as athletic and strong as Arya, he was one of the best runners on the track team. He even loved to go free climbing out in the mountains outside of Winterfell with a family friend and their father, but a freak car accident left Bran with useless legs and a deflated spirit.

"Bran, that is no way to treat your brother," Catelyn scolded her second youngest. "He is just trying to make Rickon happy and not screaming—unless you would prefer the latter?"

"No, mom," Bran replied, whipping his head to the side in a jerk like fashion to flip the fringe hair he had grown in the past couple years out of his eyes.

"Thank you, Sansa, for setting the table." Her mother finally spoke to her as she began to move the plates piled with dinner from the counter where she had prepared them to the kitchen table.

"It was my pleasure," Sansa replied, her eye contact dropping to her hands.

"You'll never believe what we saw today, Jon!" Arya and Jon soon entered the dining room, dwarfing the space as the large family gathered around the table. Arya was riding piggyback on Jon, her arms wrapped around his neck and his sturdy hands supporting her knees.

"I'm sure I won't, squirt." Jon laughed, setting her down. "But we should probably get to eating before you tell me the exciting story."

"Fine," Arya answered with mock annoyance.

Sansa watched the two interact; Jon, though he was her half-brother, always had an awkward place in the family. Jon was older than Sansa and his parentage was not talked about; Robb once told his sister that Jon was the result of a mistake father made years ago. Mother had forgiven him, but she had never really forgiven Jon. Sansa wasn't entirely sure about the entire backstory now, but apparently their father had come home with the little bundled up Jon one snowy evening while Mother had a newborn Robb and explained that this was Jon and he would be welcomed into the family now. The topic clearly bothered her mother, so Sansa never felt compelled to address the issue.

"Alright you two, sit down!" Catelyn laughed as she waved her two free spirited children toward the table. "Robb, would you care to say grace tonight?"

"Of course," Robb nodded his head, his eyes falling to his lap. Saying the dinner prayer was something that father always did. Their mother had taken over the responsibility ever since he died, and Sansa could not help but be a little bothered that she so readily gave it over to Robb. While Sansa loved Robb dearly and admired him with her whole heart, she could not help but agree with Bran: Robb was trying to become their father instead of becoming like him.

"Bow your heads, c'mon guys, this is nothing new." Catelyn scolded her children. Sansa drew her hands together before her body, dipping her head lightly.

"To the Seven we thank you for this food and privilege we have to eat it. We pray your protection over our family as we go our ways, and that you would guide us in the paths you have for us. By the leaves of the Weirwood." Robb concluded.

"By the leaves of the Weirwood," The family echoed. Sansa looked up at the boy when the prayer was over. He ran a hand through his curly auburn hair in a nervous habit before reaching for the chicken to begin passing around the table.

Robb and Sansa looked most like their mother, with their auburn hair and river blue eyes. And the two were never mistaken for more than siblings, as Sansa got older the two were indeed oft mistaken for twins. Rickon and Bran were the next closest looking to their mother. Their auburn hair was a bit darker, but they still had the deep understanding blue eyes. It was Arya and Jon who took after their father with dark brown hair and grey eyes; Sansa knew that there was no possible way that Jon was just some orphan his father had taken in with that clear an appearance. There had to be some kind of relationship between the boy and her father.

"So what happened at school today, Ary?" Her mother asked as she spooned steamed vegetables on her plate.

"That's right, squirt. You were about to tell me the fantastic sight you saw today!" Jon added.

"Well…" Arya looked around the table, making sure that everyone's eyes were on her before she began. Sansa was the only one not looking at her sister in anticipation. "Sansa was there so she can testify that this truly happened."

"You are strangling me with the suspense, sis, c'mon!" Jon whined playfully.

"It was no big deal," Sansa insisted, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"No big deal? No big deal?!" Arya asked, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward. "What do you mean 'no big deal'?"

"I mean, it wasn't something you have to make a huge fuss over. I am sure the whole thing is rather embarrassing." Sansa replied.

"Whatever," Arya rolled her eyes.

"Okay, what did you see, Arya, that is so shocking and suspenseful?" Robb cut to the chase as he normally did.

"Sansa and I….we saw….we _saw the Imp!_ " Arya cried out in a husky voice.

"Arya Lyanna Stark!" Her mother called.

"We did, mother!" Arya insisted.

"That is no way to talk about people," her mother began.

"But mom, he is the _urban legend of King's High School!_ " Arya insisted.

"He is no urban legend; he is just a man who has a…an abnormality." Catelyn tried to calm her frenzied daughter's drama.

"It's a very…small…abnormality," Arya tried for the joke. Bran and Rickon sat at the table confused, but Jon and Robb did not laugh. They instead poked at their food awkwardly.

"I don't understand what's so funny?" Bran asked. "I've only heard of the Imp as this creature that lives in the grates and comes out to eat the limbs of people that are banging in the locker rooms or whatever."

"Brandon Rickard Stark!" Their mother cried out.

"He isn't a monster or a creature that lives in the school," Sansa spoke, but she did not look at her brother as she ate her food. "He is a dwarf. A little man, who is in the Lannister family. He's Joffrey Baratheon's uncle."

"Who is strangely only eight years older than the little twerp himself," Jon added.

"You don't even know Joff, Jon. So why don't you shut up?" Sansa looked at her half-brother with dark eyes.

"Jeez, sis," Jon held his hands up before him, signaling a defense. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything. I just can't help but think that the kid has something weird about him."

"Tyrion Lannister is his name," Catelyn spoke up. "We should be respectful and call him such, even if we do not agree with his family or see eye to eye. His sister is the one married to Mayor Robert Baratheon. And the reason, Jon, that Tyrion is only eight years older than his nephew is because his mother, Joanna, had the child late in life." She sighed. "That was part of the reason the dear woman passed. She was a lovely lady, and calmed and humanized Senator Lannister. She had a special way about him."

"And so what if Mrs. Lannister had him late in life?" Bran asked. Sansa groaned as her annoying little inquisitive brother continued to push the envelope.

"Cersei was pregnant at age seventeen, Bran. She had Joffrey just before her eighteenth birthday." Catelyn's voice held no judgment for the woman, her voice factual and unbiased. "She married Robert not long after graduating from high school."

"So if Tyrion Lannister is one of _the_ Lannisters of the Lion's Pride Tyre company, how come he never is at all those press conferences and stuff?"

"Would you want to go to the press conferences if you looked like _that_?" Arya asked.

"Arya!" Her mother warned again.

"She's right," Sansa spoke up. "I mean, it's not like he's a _normal_ person. He would get stared at and laughed at and I'm sure that would not be a very fun life at all. I wouldn't want to live it."

"Sansa Minisa!"

"I'm not saying it to be cruel. I am saying it because it is factual."

"He is a person, Sansa." Jon corrected her. "Even if he's not how society wants him to be. Don't forget that."  
"Don't bother trying to explain things to her, Jon. She's all dreamy eyed and stupid because Joffrey Baratheon asked her to prom." Arya teased.

"Arya!" Sansa shot a cruel look at her sister.

"Is this true, Sansa?" Catelyn asked, her blue eyes bearing down on her daughter.

"He did ask me," Sansa returned her mother's hot gaze. "And I told him yes."

"Oh, you are not going with Joffrey Baratheon." Robb spoke up this time, shaking his head. "You are going to stay far away from the menace."

"What did he ever do to you?" Sansa asked, looking at her brother now with the angered glare.

"Your father did not trust Joffrey; you know that he wanted you to trust him in what he was not able to say to you, Sansa. He had information that he was entitled to keep as the Chief Sheriff in this city." Catelyn tried to reason with her daughter.

"Or he could have been trying to keep his oldest daughter away from dating. If the proof was so important why didn't he just tell me what it was?" Sansa's voice had risen to a yell.

"You are not going with Joffrey Baratheon and that is final." Robb looked across the table at his sister. Sansa gripped the table with both her hands, her arms visibly shaking as she clenched her teeth. Finally she could not contain herself.

"You are such hypocrites, sitting here and defending Joffrey's horrid little ugly uncle and then you go and attack Joffrey as if he was the one that was the family disappointment. He is the one in the newspaper with his family's business. He is the one who has a scholarship for the college he is going to attend after graduating. He is a nice boy who _wants to ask me out to a dance_!" Sansa shrieked. "And you are all scared because you don't want to admit I am growing up."

"That's not the point, Sansa. Joffrey Baratheon is a dangerous boy in his own capacity, and I don't want to see you entangled in his schemes." Robb looked at his sister. "You will have to call up Joffrey and tell him that you can't go. And if any other boy asks you, you have to tell me and Mom before committing to a yes."

"You are not Father, Robb!" Sansa was fighting every urge to go to her brother and beat him with her fists. "You can't even hope to be that great. You're just a bossy…asshole."

"Sansa Stark!" Her mother was surprised with her language. "You apologize to Robb right now."

"I will not!" Sansa's cheeks were red and wet with tears. She glowered over at her brother for a moment, then turned on her feet stamping down the hallway to the room she shared with Arya. As she passed the door she slammed it with all her might, causing the pictures on the wall to rattle. She then fell on her bed, clasping the life sized stuffed wolf her father had gotten her after her dog, Lady, had been hit by a car. The pup had been a present for Sansa from her father a few months before he died. When the incident had happened she had wept so hard her father could not stand it. He brought her home a stuffed dog, promising this one would stay safe and secure. Sansa hugged the reminder close and cried herself to an early sleep for a Friday evening, her face buried in the wolf's side.

* * *

Tyrion let out a pleasant sigh as Shae performed one of her many sexual talents upon his cock, this time with her mouth. The benefit was going on at the Mayor's office downtown and to Tyrion's non-surprise he was not invited. So he had left the large mansion of his father's after dark and picked up his favorite hooker. Like every Friday Tyrion had nothing to do he went and found Shae on the side of the road, her skirt showing her pretty pink underwear, atop she wore a matching bikini top, sometimes a coat over it if the weather was cold enough. And Tyrion would bring her back to his small office in his father's car dealership and fuck her until he forgot. Almost as good as a good drink, not nearly as cheap. Shae made him feel better; she was like a drug without the side effects.

Well, all the side effects except for attachment. Shae had become his friend as well as his release; a combination he recognized could become very dangerous, especially since he was beginning to fall for her filthy mouth and her brash attitude. Her unique foreign accent made her even more endearing to him when she was shouting the f-word as loud as she could as she rode him.

When she had finished, she wiped her mouth and placed her breasts back into her bikini cups, much to Tyrion's disappointment. "I thought I had you for most of the evening."

"You have me for two hours."

"Then I'll pay for the rest of your evening." Tyrion offered.

"Sometimes I think you are starting to fall in love with me," she winked her dark eye at him, a smile crossing her red lips. Her lipstick was smeared all around her lips, creating a haunting stain, like red blood smeared around her mouth. Tyrion pulled his pants back on his hips and zipped up, turning to the clean rags he had laundered earlier that day in his boredom. He threw one at Shae.

"You look like you just went down on a cherry popsicle and not my cock with that lipstick."  
"And your cock looks like I bit it, all red and stained." She licked her teeth suggestively before wiped her mouth with the cloth. "This still smells like grease."

"Well, what do you expect? You are in a car garage." Tyrion gestured around him.

It wasn't the most romantic place to take a girl you were falling for, though Tyrion doubted that a hooker would really care—about him falling for her or the location, as long as she was paid for her time. And her time was becoming more and more frequent. Tyrion was at his home away from home, his family's garage. He had been working with the mechanics of cars since he was seventeen years old, and this was one of the few places he knew in his life since turning eighteen.

"We're always in this car garage. It hurts my knees." Shae complained. "We should be making hot, sweet love in your bed." She leaned forward to kiss his mouth.

"My father would be so excited about that," Tyrion replied with an ironic chuckle.

"Your father owns that huge mansion with far too many rooms, what will he care if you are fucking me down the hall?" She straightened out his t-shirt, some faded band from his high school days that had one radio hit ten years ago and then never got anywhere after that.

"My father has all the security in the world, he has to with how much money he shits a month with the help of this place." Tyrion grumbled.

"Then we should go out somewhere, get a motel…"

"No," Tyrion replied strongly, pushing Shae from him. "I pay you to give me a good time, not give me suggestions."

"You know, sometimes you are a giant asshole. I am just saying that I don't like fucking you when I'm the one kneeling on the concrete or having to hold onto cars when I am riding you," Shae's matter-of-factness did not phase Tyrion. She could be as blunt as he and he had come to appreciate it—even when it annoyed him.

"There are some things I'd do for you. And then there are others, do you think I enjoy going out there?" Tyrion looked at her. "I'm lucky I don't have a job as a circus sideshow act."

"You should try online dating then," Shae said, leaning up against the desk in his small office. "You know, find a nice girl and fuck someone without paying them for once."

"Are you that eager to get rid of me?" Tyrion laughed.

"Not at all," Shae smiled up at him. "You would have to cheat on her anyways, because I need you to always come back to me."

"Is it because I am your highest paying customer?"

"That's the icing on the cake, sweet cheeks." Shae stood to her full height, not too terribly tall a woman, to walk over to him. She bent at the waist and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

"You should be impressed to know that I went out today," Tyrion said, though he knew she would not be.

"Oh, should I?" Shae asked as she sauntered over to his swivel chair, sitting down heavily on its worn cushion. She spun the chair to the desk and opened the bottom draw where he kept his Jameson. She took out a bottle and unscrewed the top, taking a swig.

"I see I also pay you to drink my alcohol." Tyrion replied, slightly annoyed. "And yes, I had to pick up my idiot nephew."

"Joffrey? The mayor's son? Doesn't he have like secret service or something?" Shae took another swig of the whiskey.

"He really should. I get tired of having leave the garage to go pick up the kid who won't drive his own care because he thinks he deserves a chauffeur. I think my father sends me out on purpose to humiliate him. Imagine your driver being the terrible troll that everyone whispers about."

"I think the newest rumor is that you were sold into the circus but they didn't want you because you had a demon soul."

"Oh, how pleasant!" Tyrion cried in mock excitement. "Here I was afraid that I was doomed to being the troll that lives under the Lannister mansion and eats little children."

"Why don't you just go out into public? Show them you aren't interested in the bones of little children." Shae replied.

"That would ruin all the fun. Plus, I do get tired of being the Lannister disappointment. It's been a lot easier to stay in the garage, a lot easier than having people point out that I'm "the half man." Tyrion gestured to his stunted size.

"You can fuck like no man I've ever had before," Shae added.

"Because most of the men you fuck are over the age of forty and are in desperate need of a dick aid." Tyrion replied.

"You should get a job, something outside the garage." Shae looked around her at the expensive cars Tyrion serviced daily.

"With no college degree to get a corporate job and me the size I am? I can fix cars, I can fuck, and I can read. There's no need to risk fucking up my life even more badly."

"You could always get a job in the movies, I am sure they need dwarves for that," Shae placed her legs on the top of the desk, crossing one over the other.

"Oh, yes, how I'd love to continue to serve as entertainment for everyone while being criticized for everything."

"You're problem is that you aren't open to opportunities," Shae said with a smile. "I had plenty of opportunities, and I took to whoring. If you're gonna stay in this business, get a wife. Do something to make me happy. That is, are you even capable of love? I don't think you've ever had a girlfriend in all the time I've been…servicing you." She winked at the pun.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "Sure, I asked out a Chevy last week to dinner and she kind of sputtered at me. I took it as a no."

"I'm just trying to be helpful." She stood up, taking the Jameson in hand.

"Well, thank you for your help," Tyrion replied. "But I am capable of generating human emotions, and no they are not pint sized, I'll spare you the pleasure of asking."

"So who was she? You wouldn't be so defensive if you didn't have someone."

 _Damn, she knows me too well_. Tyrion thought to himself as he looked at her. "It was a long time ago, my junior year of prom. Her name was Tysha. I thought I was the luckiest guy in the school getting with the luckiest girl and…never mind, it didn't work out. That's all you need to know about it."

"You are rather touchy tonight. I already fucked you and sucked you. You that eager for a couple more rounds?" Shae rolled her eyes. "Or would you care to finish the story about how your braved the public by going to pick up your nephew."

"The little asswipe wouldn't answer his phone, so I went into the school."

"The school as in King's High School?" Shae smiled. "Wasn't that like the one place you never wanted to go back to again?"

"Something like that, but doesn't everyone hate high school?" Tyrion asked.

"Not as much as you. I was pretty popular, believe it or not. The people were kind to a girl who could fuck them into another plain of existence." Shae smiled down at him lustily.

"I am sure you were. Being the size I am made it rather difficult, as I am sure you can imagine. Especially since I wasn't allowed to do any extracurricular activities, thanks to dear ole dad. Not even the book club."

"What a shame," Shae's pout was a complete mockery of him.

"Anyways, so I went into the building assuming it would be empty on a Friday afternoon and I found my young nephew talking to some innocent victim."

"Oh?" Shae asked, though she did not sound interested in the story anymore.

"Sansa Stark, her younger sister Arya was there as well."

"Stark, as in the Sheriff that was shot to death last year in a gang attack? Wasn't that at Christmas? I mean, what gang boss is so cruel to do that to his family. At least wait until after the holidays."

"I am sure that is exactly what the gang boss was concerned with, waiting to make sure he wasn't disturbing the holidays and then 'whoops'." Tyrion replied.

"Isn't that Stark girl Joffrey's age?"

"Yes," Tyrion thought back on the girl. He had found her quite beautiful, looking older than just eighteen years old. She was tall for a woman, and her skin was perfectly pure and pale. She had the beautiful auburn hair that her mother had, and big blue eyes.

"And so they saw you?"

"You should have seen the look in their eyes."

"I mean, it's not like you make it to Joffrey's baseball games, Mr. My Daddy Tells Me Not to Go Out So I Obey."

"I do see my customers; I explain to them what I've done to their cars."

"The Stark girls strike me as the sort to hang around car dealerships and talk to the grungy mechanics. Hard to believe they didn't recognize you."

"You've seen them?"

"Who hasn't? Their dad was pretty well loved and then Robb was the star baseball player and do gooder around her. He was helping out at the homeless shelter quite a bit." Shae was examining her nails as she explained this. "Seemed like a good kid. The little girl seems a bit wild. The older one…Sansa? She looks like a complete bitch. She's probably on your sister's cheerleading team."

"She is," Tyrion replied.

"Then she must be a complete bitch to want to be anywhere near your sister." Shae replied.

"Is a woman in your position qualified to make that sort of judgment?" Tyrion could not help but feel oddly defensive regarding the Stark girl. She had gone through so much already, and now he could only imagine what lay in store if she was foolish enough to get involved with his nephew.

"I think I am more than equipped to make that decision." She whirled around in the chair. "Do you have any smokes left? I am dying for a cigarette."

"Let's go out back," Tyrion replied, returning to his desk to retrieve a pack of cigarettes from his top drawer.

"Oh, but won't people see us?" Shae continued to mock him.

"I am starting to think that I need to look into fucking another hooker, one that isn't so mouthy."

"You wouldn't know what to do with yourself." Shae smiled.

"Maybe that'd be even more fun." Tyrion countered. Shae rolled her eyes.

As Tyrion followed her out of the room he noticed the day's newspaper sitting atop one of the boxes stacked near the office door. He paused in his walking to see it was a picture of the Stark family, or what was left of them. The article was regarding the investigation into whether Ned Stark should be rewarded for his bravery in the community or the medal withheld for ignoring express commands and unnecessarily entering into the danger that got him killed. Tyrion thought the whole situation was filled with shit, something Cersei who long hated Ned had spread. The picture on the page was not of the late Stark patriarch, however, but of the family he had left behind. Five boys and two girls, a worn out and weary wife forced to support her family on a receptionists' salary.

Tyrion had never noticed Sansa sitting before the boys in the family, next to her sister. He could not help but be compelled at her bright blue eyes, greyscaled in the photo, and their look of lostness. He knew what it was to be lost, did he not? And she had lost the only compass she had had, the only sense of direction her entire family had.

The Starks were quite different than his own house. To the Lannisters, family was a system, and family matters were to be kept private, and family disappointments hidden. But Ned Stark had brought home his bastard son to be raised in his own home, treated no differently than his children with Cat. To the Starks, it was family that mattered. And Tyrion could not help but feel a little jealousy toward the hollow Stark girl; at least she had places to look for help. He had long ago accepted he was lost to shame and embarrassment.

He didn't want to think anymore of the matter and reached into his pocket to pull out his lighter. He took a cigarette from the carton and lit it, a foolish decision in a room full of gas. But dying would only be a service to his family. Perhaps he would get a medal in his death if he plastered himself all over the walls. It would not be covered in the papers. He would be buried in the paper trail, just like everyone who his father hated was lost before him. Lost in life and lost in death, that was the legacy Tyrion Lannister would lead.

He inhaled deeply, shaking as the nicotine filled his body and held his breath for a moment, then he let out the exhale and the smoke trailed out behind him as he walked toward the exit.


	3. Bikinis and Degrees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter today! Sorry! I just think "oh man, I don't know if I can get this done" and then I do. Thank you writing muses! And thank you, readers and reviewers, for all your support! - Lydia

"Sansa, come on! I only have the car til eight tonight, and I want to enjoy as much time as I can in the pool." Margaery had rolled down her car door window and was leaning out the side; her impatient brown eyes watching Sansa slowly exit the house.

"Shhh!" Sansa hissed as she looked back behind her into the kitchen. Her mother was there, on the phone with her Aunt Lysa. Sansa waved to her before leaving.

"Be back at nine, Sansa Stark!" Catelyn tipped the phone away from her mouth to yell at her daughter.

"Of course, Mom! We are just going to Margaery's for a grill out. I'll be home before you know it." Sansa responded before slamming the door behind her.

"Why the hell did you tell her that?" Margaery asked as she watched Sansa cross around the front of the beat up and rusted Camry. "We are so not going to my house for a picnic."

"Yeah, well the whole Joffrey thing isn't going down very well with the family. Both my mom and Robb want me to tell Joff that I can't go with him to prom. And they weren't too thrilled when I went to the baseball game last Saturday. I mean, they couldn't tell me no because it was the school's championship game and Arya wanted to go so badly to see if Winterfell would win…and, it doesn't matter. We're going to have a good day, right?" Sansa smiled as she climbed into the passenger side of the old car.

"Right, we are," Margaery looked over Sansa's attire of short jean shorts and a blue and grey striped tank top. "Though you aren't exactly dressed to be flaunting yourself in front of the Team Captain."

"Really, Margaery? Do you have that little faith in me?" Sansa smiled as she held up her giant handbag. "I tucked my bikini in here. I'll just change at Joff's. I mean, they have a huge mansion, I am sure I can find a bathroom there no problem."

"Look at you, Miss Stark, becoming a sneaky little girl. Before you know it you'll be one of Mr. Varys' little spies." Margaery teased. Sansa rolled her eyes; Varys was the head counselor at King's High School and he seemed to be more in the know of the student rumors and ongoings than the students themselves. Sansa found him downright creepy, and she wanted the meeting regarding her college placement this coming week to be the final and only experience she had with the fat, balding man.

"I am not sure that Varys would hire someone who is so…outside of the school circle. Since my family isn't from King's Landing and I mean, I could be one of those 'loose Winterfell people'." Sansa air quoted the claim about her old home.

"Oh please, you know that Varys has far more sense and information to believe any of that nonsense about girls up there not shaving their pits and chewing on dog bones like their life depended on it."

"I mean, I didn't shave my pits that much." Sansa playfully admitted as Margarey pulled out of the driveway.

"Sansa, that is so gross." Margaery wrinkled her nose as she looked over at Sansa.

"I am just kidding; I did shave my pits all the time. God, do you think I am that gross?" Sansa laughed. "My legs, on the other hand…"

"Sansa!"

"What? It is a lot colder in Winterfell than it is here, and you wear pants most of the year. Or leggings if you are daring enough to wear a dress. No one was seeing my hairy legs."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like you were fucking anyone." Margaery teased.

"Are you really going to bring up my virginity right here and now?" Sansa groaned.

"I mean, does Joffrey know this?"

"I didn't exactly update him on the state of my sexual existence, so no." Sansa felt her cheeks flush pink as she aired the next thought. "Oh my god, what if Joffrey is my first?"

"You could do a lot worse, I suppose. He's a really good looking guy," Margaery tilted her head and let out a consideration frown as she thought about it.

"Like…when do people do that kinda stuff?" Sansa shook her head. "It's not like we're dating or anything, and like I feel like prom would just be so cliché and just not very…appropriate."

"If you don't wanna sleep with him, then don't. He shouldn't be the one to dictate that kind of stuff."

"When did you and Renly do it for the first time?" Sansa asked.

"Renly and I have, of course, not slept together," Margaery replied with a sly smile.

"You are so full of bullshit!" Sansa laughed.

"If my mother or father…or even worse, _my grandmother_ thought anything different we wouldn't be going to this pool party." Margaery smiled as she turned her head. "So as far as you know, Renly and I are completely oblivious to this sex thing."

"Whatever," Sansa rolled her eyes.

"So, are you going to change before or after you see Joffrey? Are you going to show him your lovely pale bod first or leave him wondering while you slip your itsy, bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini?"

"I do not have a yellow polka dot bikini!" Sansa laughed. "It's a very pretty magenta color."

"Oh, magenta, we're getting all Crayola over here." Margaery's brown eyes twinkled with mischief.

"You know, you're a total bitch." Sansa laughed.

"Yes, but the bitch who is driving you to Joff's so you can get to know the school star before you get all hanky panky with him."

Sansa shook her head, looking out the window at the passing houses of King's Landing. Her family had moved into the less affluent part of the city, her father's job provided less income than the one in Winterfell. Of course her mother was glad that it was one less bill she had to worry about with her receptionist's job. Sansa knew that Robb was looking for a job to take on along with college. The house might not be expensive, but raising six kids and one with a handicap made the financial toll more than her mother could bear. Jon was already considering moving back to Winterfell to return to his job as a carpenter. If only her family had the money which the Lannisters did. They would never have to worry about anything ever again. And then her mother could be beautiful and well-kept like Cersei, and her brothers would have all the things Joffrey had. And they wouldn't have to worry about keeping quiet about any family disgrace, all of her siblings were beautiful, even Arya even though she tried to look more like a tomboy than a lady.

"I wonder if he'll be there?" Sansa mused as she watched the people play and work on their lawns.

"Who?"

"Tyrion Lannister," Sansa looked over to her friend. Margaery had slipped aviator sunglasses onto her oval face, her plump lips sparkled in the sunshine, coated in lip gloss.

"Tyrion?" Margaery looked over to Sansa, her brown eyebrows crossing in thought. Atop them sat her beautiful curly brown hair which was twisted into a messy bun. Sansa touched her straight auburn hair in jealousy. "Is he the short one?"

"The dwarf." Sansa clarified.

"Yeah, you don't hear much about him, do you?" Margaery replied as she turned her eyes back to the road.

"I saw him the other day, at school, after cheerleading practice."

"Arya was telling a bunch of people in the cafeteria that." Margaery replied. "I was wondering when you were going to start talking about the urban legend."

"He's not really much of an urban legend," Sansa traced the edge of the window with her pointer finger. "He's very ordinary, well aside from his stature. He was nice to me; he apologized for my father's death." Sansa looked over to Margaery. "No one has done that since the funeral."

"It's kinda hard to when the Lannisters have totally blamed him for his death and for the awakening of the gang presence in King's Landing."

"That's total crap." Sansa groaned. "There has always been criminal activity in King's Landing. It's not something that happened just because my father went after some ruffians."

"Ruffians? Quaint word usage," Margaery chuckled.

"It fits,"

"What about bastards?"

"No," Sansa shook her head. "I don't think that word fits."

* * *

Sansa and Margaery pulled into the Lannister's mansion at eleven thirty. The cars parked in the long wrap around driveway attested to the fact that the girls were one of the last party goers to arrive.

"So this whole thing is to celebrate their victory in the championships?" Margaery tilted her glasses down. "You'd think pizza at a joint downtown would suffice."

"And turn down a chance to check out this gorgeous mansion? No thank you!" Sansa responded as she got out of the car, shutting the door behind her.

"Whatever, you're just totally drooling over all the splendor. You little money whore!" Margaery teased.

The two headed onto the lawn where balloons were hanging from a sign which directed them onto a path which led around the side of the mansion. Sansa could feel her tummy flop at the prospect of running into Joffrey so soon. The windows in the car were open and she was certain that the wind had messed up her hair. She wasn't able to do anything as elegant as Margaery's messy bun; her hair was too straight for any hopes of getting it to fall so perfectly. Sansa found in this moment that she slightly regretted having such a beautiful friend. _Perhaps Margaery was right? Perhaps I should just sneak off into the mansion and change before Joffrey can see me? Cheerleading has at least toned me up._

"God, you are so slow, come on!" Margaery replied exasperated. "We want to get to the pool party before it's over!" She took ahold of Sansa's hand, trapping the auburn haired girl into following her toward the back.

Sansa and Margaery stopped in their tracks when they rounded the corner to the back of the Lannister mansion. A giant pool with a built in waterfall filled the portion of the lawn they were directed to. Sansa estimated that there must have been seventy or so guests, and yet the pool made it seem like a twenty guest party. The pool was shaped into a "u" shape, one half of the pool was tropical themed, with the built in waterfall and trees to shade the pool. The other half was filled with guests playing chicken, girls atop of the broad shoulders of the boys of King's High School.

Sansa could not believe the enormous wealth which the Lannisters had. Her father had been very wealthy back in Winterfell, where the economy was not as grand, but he would have never put in such flashy luxuries as this. He barely caved when Robb and Jon convinced him to get a hot tub to fit ten in the backyard of their large house in Winterfell.

"We should go find Joff, thank him for inviting us." Margaery replied. She seemed entirely unphased by the show of wealth.

"Uhm? Do you think that's a good idea? I am sure that he's around talking to people, and you know, there is so much to do here!" Sansa balked. How was Joffrey supposed to think well of her when he came to pick her up in his limousine for prom, only to arrive at her family's modest home?

"There he is!" Margaery exclaimed. "Come on, Sansa. Don't be such a baby." She took Sansa by the hand and dragged her over to the boy.

Joffrey was speaking with a couple girls clad in teal and red bikinis; several looked like they were hanging on his every word. Joffrey wore a pair of yellow swimming trunks with a thick crimson stripe wrapping around the middle of the design. From the top up he was bare, and Sansa noticed the results he achieved from weightlifting; his biceps were nicely shaped and prominent. She couldn't help but smile at them secretly.

"Joffrey!" Margaery boldly interrupted the group.

"Ah, Margaery, I see you have made it," Joffrey turned to greet the girl. He was wearing a pair of aviators as well, his white smile flashing in the sun. Sansa looked at his hair which was striking gold in the light. "And you've brought my beautiful Sansa along."

"Yeah," Margaery replied.

"Are you two ready to go swim?" Joffrey asked. Margaery looked at Sansa, and then turned back to Joffrey, nodding her head vigorously. She then reached for the bottom of her lavender loose top and pulled it over her head, a deep green wrap around held her voluminous breasts. She then discarded of her skirt just as quickly, revealing small yellow bikini bottoms. "That jungle portion over there looks to die for."

Sansa looked at Joffrey who had tilted his sunglasses down to look at Margaery. "Yeah, it's a great place to hang out. We should hang out there when it gets a little…hotter." Joffrey winked his green eyes at Sansa.

"Yeah," Sansa nodded her head, wringing her hands awkwardly.

"Well, aren't you going to swim with us?" Joffrey looked Sansa over.

Sansa realized it was because she was still wearing her shorts and tank top. It was at this moment that she wished her bikini top did not wrap around her neck, otherwise she could have worn them as undergarments and performed her own strip for Joffrey. He seemed to like Margaery's well enough. And he was supposed to like her, after all; she couldn't let Margaery's confidence swallow her whole.

"Oh, yeah, I just…I didn't change into my bathing suit this morning." Sansa flushed red. "I just…I need to duck into one of your bathrooms and change."

"Oh, right, there are cabanas over there." Joffrey pointed to the small huts which were partially covered with linens.

"No, it's okay. I kinda have to use the facilities anyways." Sansa insisted. The last thing she wanted was for some boy to see her naked. What a mortifying thought!

"Well, just go in through the back door. There's a bathroom down the hall to your left, the first door on your right."

"Okay, yeah," Sansa clutched her grey bag close to her side. "I'll be back in like five minutes, tops. Go on in, though, I'll find you guys when I am done."

"There's no rush, Sansa." Margaery smiled. "Make sure you've got your top on right. You wouldn't want to give a free show."

"Yeah, no, of course not." Sansa replied, stumbling back toward the house. She charged forward toward the house, her head down as she did her best to fight through the people. She was certain that she looked like a huge idiot.

She surged forward, her eyes on her flip flop clad feet as she ran through the steps of putting a bikini on as quickly as possible. She wasn't watching where she was going and ran straight into a large body. She stumbled back, her arms flying out to gain her balance and her purse falling to the ground. Hlass breaking on the concrete filled the air, causing her blue eyes to widen as she realized the mess she must have made.

"Oh gods, I am so sorry!" Sansa looked up. Before her stood a very tall and very broad man with a burn mark on one half of his face. He glared at her, his grey eyes narrowing as he looked down at Sansa.

"Watch where you are going, little bird." His voice was deep and rough as he spoke to her. He was sinking to his knees to pick up the glass.

"Yes…yes of course," Sansa trembled as she reached for her purse. "I didn't mean to bump into you…sir."

"I'm no sir, I'm a butler." He looked at her once more, his eyes stilled narrowed. "Sandor Clegane; call me what you like as long as it's not Jeeves. Call me the Hound for all the fucks I give; everyone else in this fucking city does."

"Right…sorry sir…Sandor…Hound." She looked at him as she thrust her purse over her shoulder.

"Well go on; be on your way to whatever has you so focused." He shooed her away.

Sansa looked at him once more, then quickly walked around him toward the house.

When she stepped in through the doors a blast of cool air hit her, causing her to shiver. The marble floors below her were red and white checkered, the image of two lions rearing in battle decorated the center of the entryway. The hall was rounded as two staircases came from both sides of the room and joined in the middle. Sansa took a quickly left and made her way to the first door on the right.

When she opened the door, however, she did not find an empty bathroom. Instead she discovered one of the boys from the baseball team behind one of her fellow cheerleaders, both their swimming attire removed. Sansa watched as the boy thrusted into her teammate and then groaned.

"This room is taken!" He cried when he realized the door was open. The blood from Sansa's face drained as she shut the door while he claimed the territory.

She pushed the disturbing image from her mind as she took a couple steps away from the door, the moans on the other side becoming increasingly louder. Sansa turned in horror to her right to return to the hall. She instead took the stairs, figuring that there must be a bathroom somewhere on the second floor. As she climbed the stairways she looked at all the artwork and sculptures of lions and old dead men and landscapes which hung on the wall.

Sansa reached the top and began her way down the hall toward her left, trying every door she passed. She was near the end of the line, her hopes of finding another bathroom diminishing when she found a door that opened.

The door creaked open and Sansa discovered to her joy that this was indeed a bathroom. It was a full bath, beautifully tiled red and yellow, the walls a crimson color. The bathroom had both a jet bathtub and a shower in the corner; the long counter contained a sink in the middle. Sansa quickly closed the door behind her, locking it. Across the way were a mirror and another door, a door which most like just led to some closet or storage room. She pushed the thought from her mind and reached into her bag, pulling the magenta bikini from the bottom.

She looked at herself in the long mirror as she stood in the center of the bathroom. Sansa quickly stripped her shorts and underwear followed by her top and bra. She could not help but pause to look at her reflection. She frowned as she looked at her long thighs, wondering if perhaps they could stand to see a couple more squats to be more shapely. And she should definitely address the pubic hair she had neglected to maintain since competition in March. If she did want to sleep with Joffrey, she should look as good as she could. She smiled as she looked at her taut tummy, something she had proudly gained during months of grueling runs and weights and routines. She was quiet proud of her round breasts which had grown in a few years earlier and made her feel more like a woman. She ran a hand over her naked tummy before turning to grab her bikini.

She pulled the bottoms up between her legs, situating the bathing suit piece over her pubis, and hoping that the quick bikini shave she had done earlier that morning was suitable enough. She glanced toward the bathroom sink in the hopes that a razor might be handy if she needed one in emergency. _They are rich; they can afford a new razor if I need one_.

It was then that she noticed the electric razor sitting in the corner of the bathroom charging. Sansa looked at it curiously, as she tied her left hip's bikini strings. She was making sure they were tight, the last thing she needed was for them to come undone. She then turned to her right one quickly after.

As she was making sure that her bikini strings were of a suitable knotting she heard the door knob before her turn. She looked toward the door with wide eyes, then looked to her bikini top which still lay on the counter. But it was too late—the door opened before she could even move from her position to grab the top. Sansa felt her head spin as she looked at the intruder.

There he stood; his green eyes just as wide as hers must have been, his square jaw hanging open as his eyebrows stood up on his prominent brow line. She finally noticed the scar which stretched from his brow to his left cheek, and she scolded herself for thinking of such things instead of covering herself up immediately. The two looked at each other for several frozen slow beats before Sansa put her hands over her breasts, her cheeks growing quite red.

"Get out!" She cried, lunging to the bathroom counter to grab her top.

"Oh shit!" Tyrion cried, as he slammed the door.

Sansa shakily threw the halter top of her bikini's top over her head, her hands tremoring as she tried to tie the strings behind her back, her breasts not even fully tucked into the cups. But her fear and her surprise got the best of her, and she ended up falling to the soft bathmats below her as her world went black.

* * *

Tyrion shook his head as he tried to get the image of Sansa Stark standing before him in nothing more than purplish bikini bottoms. She had stood frozen before him, her long pale limbs on display. And her breasts, her beautiful round breasts with their pink hard nipples…

Tyrion scolded himself as he felt blood rush to his crotch at the image. "Gods, she is eight years younger than you, Tyrion!" He scolded himself.

He had just wanted to get a quick shave in before seeing his father; the man had so kindly sent one of Tyrion's apprentices to his room to inform him that Tywin Lannister wished to offer forth a proposition. "Gods forbid he actually go out of his way for his son." Tyrion rolled his eyes.

He was still fighting the image of Sansa's tits as he walked down the hall, rubbing his unshaven chin. The blondish brown hair was growing in patchy as he hadn't grown a decent beard in months, but his father would not want to see any facial hair on such a prominent figure as a Lannister son. _Even if that Lannister son is forced behind the scenes and no one is going to see his fucking face._

He had pulled on a pair of ripped jeans and some old band shirt on just to annoy his father even if his job forced him to comply with no facial hair. His dear old dad wanted him to dress as nicely as his cousin Jaime. While the man was kind to Tyrion when the few who knew him weren't, Tyrion could not take Jaime's wardrobe of khaki shorts and red polos seriously; though Jaime and his fashion model looks made it much easier for him to look like a total idiot and still look good. Tyrion was not blessed with as good of look. _The curse of being a dwarf, besides the family shame and the inability to walk in public without people pointing and staring._

Tyrion quickly waddled down the stairs and to the left where his father's office was located at the very end. He heard several moans and cries as he passed the bathroom downstairs. He smirked as he realized why the Stark girl was in his bathroom and not placing her gorgeous tits in the bikini top downstairs. "Gods, you need to get laid again." Tyrion rubbed his face.

He should have gotten Clegane to take care of the young lovers in the bathroom; it was a practice his father would certainly not approve of. But Tyrion wished more that he was one of them, and besides, he loved pissing his father off. He could not dwell on the thought long, however, as he soon thought about Sansa Stark and her beautiful body and what it must be like to touch it, to fuck it. "Gods be good! Fuck me!" He swore.

He instead tried to guess what his father would want him to do, and what was so urgent he was called out of his room when Joffrey was having some sort of large party celebration right outside and he could so riskily be seen. He had no ideas or conclusions when he reached his father's door. Tyrion took a deep breath before rapping on the door with his foreknuckles.

"Come in," His father's deep voice commanded. Tyrion sighed and then opened the door before him.

"How nice of you to call me out of my room to join the festivities of today." Tyrion quipped as he entered the room.

"Unless you are swimming in a pool right now, you have remained uninvited." Tywin looked up at Tyrion over his wireframe glasses, his hard cold green eyes glaring at his son. He held a pen in his hand and was looking over some sort of document before him. "You are supposed to be at the garage today, be glad that I granted you the time off."

"Yes, it was so kind of you to grant me a weekend off; I'm not sure how those cars are surviving without my company." Tyrion looked over mock dreamily toward the window as he settled into a chair before his father's desk.

"I did not call you in here to talk about your work, Tyrion," his father's voice was no nonsense. "As you know, Jon Arryn was found dead last week."

"Yes, I heard that rather nasty bit of news. How is Robert holding up without his trusty treasurer by his side?"

"Robert needs a lot of help. And that is why I am going to be taking Arryn's position." Tywin replied.

"But who is going to be in charge of Lion's Pride's finances and clientele?"

"Cersei can handle the clientele; it is not like she does much as the wife of the mayor. And she can afford to spend a little less time at those pointless cheerleading practices."

"What about the finances, then?"

Tywin held up the papers before him, tapping them on the desk to order and straighten them. "That is why I needed to speak with you. I have enrolled you at the local college for this coming fall."

"Aren't I a little old for college?" Tyrion's face contorted. "That was something I should have done like eight or nine years ago."

"I am in need of a financial advisor for the company. Petyr Baelish has kindly agreed to take over for the summer and the first semester, but I do not want to see this company open up to those outside the family."

"Then send Uncle Kevan." Tyrion groaned. "Just leave me out of this."

"I did keep you, I did not let the nurses leave you to die, Tyrion," Tywin slammed the paper down on the table. "So that you could disgrace this family further."

"I thought you did it because that was what mother wanted?" Tyrion asked.

Tyrion could see his father's face redden at the mention of his deceased mother, but Tywin stayed calm. "You are going to college, Tyrion, whether you like it or not. You are enrolled in the degree program for accounting. You are to go to the college later this week to pick out your classes after doing some placement assessments."

"Can't I just read a book all about this?" Tyrion whined.

"You need a license, Tyrion. I am not going to have my company taken away any more than I am going to have it loaned out." Tywin stated firmly.

Tyrion huffed in his chair, chewing the inside of his lip as he crossed his arms. "I thought a man of reading, such as yourself, would enjoy the opportunity." Tywin commented. "It will get you out of the garage."

"Thank you, father, that was the exact thing I was looking forward to," Tyrion replied. "Leaving one job I hate to train for another job I am sure to hate."

"That is what is going to happen, Tyrion. So get your act together." Tywin replied, his voice calm and collected. "And I expect you to take your work seriously. No more prostitutes or drinking, Tyrion."

"Now you are just being cruel." Tyrion protested.

"You have been told what you are to do and what you are not, if you do not wish to comply, you can leave this house and be disowned from this family." Tywin replied, opening his desk and grabbing a binder. "You may go,"

"Fine!" Tyrion replied, jumping down from the chair in a foul mood.

"You will also better represent this family with your choice of attire; I expect to see you dressed nicely for the public and not in your garage clothes, Tyrion." Tywin did not look up from his work. "You are to be seen by the public, you will not pull anymore of your high school antics."

Tyrion did not reply, but instead slammed the door behind him. He marched down the hall and up the stairs, not pausing to make some sort of quip to the moaning couple in the bathroom. Instead he climbed the stairs as fast as he could and took a turn to his left, not stopping until he reached the last door on the right. He ran his hand over his face.

"I can't believe I am fuckin' doing this," Tyrion grumbled as he slammed the door behind him. He went to his nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a flask. He took a swig, wincing as the familiar burn of alcohol coated his throat. What he needed in the moment was a nice hot bath, and the image of pretty boobs to relax himself with.

He opened the door to the bathroom and found Sansa still lying there; she stirred slightly as she came to.

"Sansa?" He asked, quickly kneeling by her side. He tried not to look at the fact that her tits were still uncovered.

"Where am I?" Sansa asked as she sat up, she held her forehead in her hands.

"In Tyrion Lannister's bathroom. We had a slight…encounter earlier." He said. "It appears you fainted."

Sansa looked around and then over at him, her river blue eyes looking directly into his green ones. "What happened?"

"Well…" Tyrion indicated with the nod of his head toward her still untied bikini top.

"Oh shit!" Sansa replied, her cheeks turning a red apple color as she quickly turned away from him. He could see her hands move to tuck herself away and then she quickly tied the strings in the back.

"I didn't see anything, I promise." Tyrion lied. "The top had fallen just right when I…uh…found you."

"I am sorry," Sansa replied, stumbling to her feet. She grabbed the grey giant purse which sat on the counter and the pile of clothes she left on the floor. She hastily shoved them into her bag.

"No need to apologize, nothing happened here," Tyrion wiped an imaginary mark before him with his hands.

"I didn't mean to…I mean…." Sansa stumbled toward the door.

"I know, I heard them downstairs." Tyrion replied. "Go on, have fun." He looked at her long limbs once more. "Sansa,"

Sansa turned to look at him with wide eyes; he had interrupted her in the middle of unlocking the door.

"Yeah?"

"You look beautiful," he replied. "I mean, the color suits you, I just thought you should know."

"T…th...thanks," she replied hastily before springing the lock and pulling open the bathroom door. She was gone before he let out his breath.

Tyrion rubbed the back of his head in contemplation. He was definitely going to need that bath now. And Shae for later.

He hoped not to run into the Stark girl again, the two didn't need further embarrassment. Plus he'd probably imagine those tits every time he saw her, longing to touch them. To touch her.

He groaned. _One more dream I need to have smashed._ He made his way to the tub and turned the water on, stopping the drain to let the water begin to rise.


	4. Scheduling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hell's bells, it's been a million years or so since I've updated this one. It's been a crazy busy summer for me, and Desperate to Connect is still my priority piece, but I did miss exploring Sansa and Tyrion's relationship in this one. It's still in the stages of setting up their relationship, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

The air conditioning in the building caused Sansa to shiver in her teal shorts and sleeveless grey and navy striped top. She was already put into a bad mood and the chill in the air was doing nothing to soothe her crankiness. She should have brought her sweatshirt; no one was apt to see her anyways on a Saturday morning before noon. She wanted to be sleeping herself, but her guidance counselor wanted to be sure that everything was ready for her to attend the local community college in the fall. And she had recommended that Sansa meet with the career counselors before the end of her last semester to be sure that she was able to fit into the classes she needed.

 _I don’t see what the big rush is._ Sansa crossed her legs and swung the top one back and forth in her impatience. _It’s next fall. I have all summer to worry about where the hell I am going. And who even knows if I’ll make it through college? Mum is certainly worried about the finances._

The office was quiet, the secretary at the desk making soft clicking sounds as she typed without ceasing, her back turned to Sansa and her long silver braid touched the middle of her burgundy cardigan clad back. Sansa crossed her arms as she tried to fight off the chill the employee had been well prepared for.

“Miss,” Sansa spoke up for the first time since walking through the door that day. The secretary swiveled on her chair slowly, her long tan face did not smile and her dark eyes marked that she did not welcome the interruption.

“Yes?”

“My appointment was for half past nine and it’s near quarter til,” Sansa nodded her head toward the analog clock ticking away the seconds above the secretary’s desk.

“Welcome to college; things aren’t as prompt and orderly as your little high schools are,” her voice was dry. “It’s like preparation for the real life—get used to waiting.” The woman then swiveled back to face her desk and resume her keyboard clicking.

Sansa slumped in the chair with a huff, locking her arms more tightly across her chest as she bounced her foot. _I could get up and just leave; I can take care of this later._ But she knew she would be in even further trouble if her mother found out she blew off setting up a schedule to “further her future” to prepare for an afternoon of prom dress shopping with Margaery. An event that wasn’t even going to begin to take place until after lunch.

The door to the office swung open and Sansa sat upright to see the visitor. The entrance was across the way and required the guest to stop at the secretary’s desk before walking across the room to the waiting area comprised of eight chairs set up in an incomplete rectangle with a coffee table littered with magazines in the middle. Sansa caught sight of the intruder before the secretary did, turning beet red.

Tyrion Lannister stood beside the desk, wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie bearing the Lannister family garage logo on the back. His golden hair was curly and messy atop his square head and he had allowed his facial hair to cover his cheeks and chin with dark stubble. He was looking up at the secretary who had stood to lean over the counter to look at him.

“Name,” she asked, her pencil poised over the giant desk calendar; Sansa was willing to bet that if one’s name was not marked in one of the boxes than the visitor would be denied entry.

“Tyrion Lannister,” Tyrion replied, looking up at her. “Let’s not pretend we don’t know who I am. I am sure not many people look like me.”

“I just need to verify, Mister Lannister,” the woman looked down at the man with a frown. “And what brings you to our office today?”

“Don’t you have that all marked in your pristine spreadsheet where you keep all the secrets of everyone’s lives, Miss Byrd?” Tyrion answered, his green eyes looking to the name plaque sitting near a jar of peppermint candies.

“I can conveniently wipe the drive of any record of your appointment and you’ll have to wait another few weeks before you can even think about rescheduling.” Miss Byrd chirped at him, her pencil fall to the desk.

“But I need to register for summer courses!” Tyrion insisted.

“What a shame,” Miss Byrd was clearly taking no pity on the small man. Tyrion grunted and then shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Fine, I am here to enroll in the college as a student.”

“Didn’t your cousin Jamie go to Knight’s University in Casterly Rock?” Miss Byrd asked.

“And what does that have to do with me?” Tyrion growled.

“I just thought maybe you’d have the money to go to a nicer college.” She looked down on the man with a cruel smile, and Sansa knew she was doing it to humiliate him.

“It would help if I had the grades,” Tyrion’s heavy brow stitched as he looked up at her, a frown on his square mouth.

“No need to get snippy,”

“There’s no need to be a giant cunt about me coming to this school, and yet here we are doing what we needn’t.” Tyrion replied.

“Fine,” Miss Byrd replied, turning back to her computer and clicking about the screen. “Ms. Mordane will see you at ten fifteen.”

“The appointment was supposed to be for ten.”

“It could be later.” Miss Byrd stood to look down at him again.

“I have a job I need to get to—“

“I can always reschedule you in three weeks’ time…”

“No,” Tyrion replied. “I’ll just wait here.”

“Good idea,” the smirk the woman gave Tyrion suggested it was anything but.

Tyrion glared at her and then turned, pausing as Sansa met his green eyes. The skin about his cheeks and nose flushed red and he dropped his gaze quickly, making his way to the chairs. He took a chair three away from Sansa, each sitting against the wall at both corners. Sansa looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. He was doing his best to feign interest in the art against the furthest wall, his head turned away from her.

The seconds built into minutes, until fifteen minutes into the uncomfortable silence Sansa spoke up.

“Are you looking for a new degree?” She inquired, looking down at her knees as she spoke.

“I haven’t gone to college yet,” Tyrion admitted.

“Oh,” Sansa replied, rocking her leg back and forth to try to physically dissipate her unease.

“My father wants me to take over the financial part of the company, and he insists I get a degree in that market before I officially get the job.” Tyrion offered, looking over at her.

“Gotcha,” Sansa replied, crossing her hands over her knees, but she did turn her head to look over to him. “So this is your first college experience?”

“It’s a terrible first impression, if I must say so myself.” He admitted with a warm smile, turning to look at her quickly with his sharp green eyes before looking down. His hand went up to brush his right cheek, which she guessed must be a nervous habit as he kept little eye contact with her. After a moment he slipped out of his chair and approached her. “I suppose that I’ve had nothing but bad first impressions with you.”

Sansa looked over to him and saw that he held out his hand. She took it and his stubby fingers wrapped around hers in a firm grip, he bobbed the union of hands up and down three times. “I am sure you already know this, but I’m Tyrion Lannister.”

“Sansa Stark,” Sansa replied, replacing her hand on her knee as soon as he released it.

“Would you mind if I sat next to you, my lady?” Tyrion asked kindly. Sansa tensed, but then nodded her head. He climbed into the chair next to her, settling into the cushions. “And what are you attending school for?”

“I don’t know yet,” Sansa replied. “I don’t even know if I’m going to do this whole college thing.”

“I am sure you are smart enough,” Tyrion replied.

“Things have been kind of tight since, well, I am sure you heard about what happened to my father?”

“A tragedy; I am sorry about the whole thing.” Tyrion’s apology was genuine and she felt herself relax a little.

“Right, so we’ve not been making a whole lot of money—“

“I am sure we could offer you a job at the garage, even if it’s just sitting at the desk answering phones,” Tyrion offered. Sansa’s eyes widened as she looked over at him.

“Uhm, well, I appreciate the offer…” Sansa replied.

“You don’t have to take it, but if you ever need help…you can just let me know.” Tyrion offered. Sansa bit her lip—why was he being so kind to her? “And it’s not just because I found you half naked in my room.”

Sansa burned red, her eyes watering from the embarrassment. She heard the chair swivel as the secretary turned around. Evidently she had been eavesdropping, and the worst portion of the conversation had struck a chord.

“Not that…I mean…” Tyrion tried to save himself. “I am sorry about _that_ accident as well. I meant to apologize a bit better, and I understand the confusion about the bathroom. Generally I keep the hall door locked but…I’m not making this any better, am I?”

Sansa folded her hands over her face, her cheeks burning with heat. “Nope.”

“I should probably just shut the fuck up.” Tyrion crossed his arms.

“That would be preferable,” Sansa replied. She heard Tyrion groan in the chair next to her, his hands pushing into the pocket of his hoodie.

The clock ticking on the wall and the sound of Miss Byrd’s computer keys clacking were soon the only noises in the office as Sansa and Tyrion sat next to one another but did not speak. Sansa was beginning to truly think about leaving the office to end her humiliating and uncomfortable wait now and deal with her mother’s wrath later, when an elderly lady stepped out of the room.

“Sansa Stark?”

Sansa grabbed the silver purse at her feet and stood, placing it over her shoulder. She turned to see Tyrion look up at her, his green eyes watching her under his heavy brow.

“Well, good luck with your appointment,” Sansa offered him, feeling compelled to say something to his stare. Tyrion nodded his head.

“And good luck to you, Lady Sansa.”

Sansa flushed at the title, but went into the office of the woman. She took a seat before the organized desk, neat stacks of manila folders and sheets of paper lining the surface, sitting on the maroon fabric and crossing her legs once again. She watched Ms. Mordane shut the door behind them and take a chair on the other side of the desk. She reached for a mouse and began to shake it to awaken the computer. Her brown eyes looked at the words before her on the screen and she took a moment to read before turning to Sansa.

“So, Miss Stark, you applied to King’s Community College several weeks ago, was this last minute?” She looked over her thin glasses. Sansa shrugged.

“I was hoping to go back to Winterfell for college, but it just wasn’t going to work out.”

“Is it because of your grades, Miss Stark?” The woman crossed her hands before her. Sansa looked up at the counselor and her genuine look of concern. Sansa took a piece of her auburn hair in hand and twisted it around her finger.

“It might have been,” Sansa admitted. “I wasn’t even gonna go to college, but my mother really wanted me to.”

“It would be beneficial for you to have an education, Sansa, especially as a young intelligent girl as you clearly are. I see that your transcripts from before this past year boast incredible grades and accolades. You would have been in the top students of your class if you did not let this year slide away.”

“Yeah, well some unexpected things happened.”

“I know that you and your family lost your father in a shooting last fall; and I understand how traumatizing this must have been for you. To have to cope with the loss of a great man such as him.”

“Are you a professional therapist?” Sansa asked, crossing her hands before her chest.

“I am not, Sansa,” Ms. Mordane conceded.

“Then can we cut this crap?” Sansa replied angrily. She did not want to talk about her father and his death, she did not want the sympathy from this woman, she did not want to be pitied by a stranger. “I came here to talk to you about career options because my mother wanted me to.”

“And what do you want to do, Sansa?” Ms. Mordane leaned back into her chair and mirrored Sansa, crossing her hands before her sagging chest. Sansa shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “If you are going to come into my office and speak to me rudely, then I expect you to have your answers straight, kiddo.”

Sansa bit her lip. “I don’t know, I’ve always liked clothes. Maybe the fashion industry? I haven’t given much thought about it.”

“You are graduating in a month’s time from high school; I think it’s high time that you started to take this seriously.” She frowned.

“Yeah, but, I mean I have the whole summer to think about this.” Sansa shook off the suggestion.

“Actually, Sansa, in order to qualify for this cheerleading scholarship Ms. Cersei has recommended you for, you have to get your grades up.”

“Well it’s a little late this semester to even hope for that.” Sansa scoffed at the woman’s suggestion. _This is an utter waste of my time._

“You are lucky you are even graduating, Sansa Stark,” The grey haired woman looked at the computer screen and shook her head. “You have so much potential, Sansa, do not throw it away.”

“So what do you suggest then, Ms. Mordane?” Sansa was trying to watch her tone, but she could feel the edge of annoyance creep into her voice.

“I recommend that you take a couple summer classes, try to increase your GPA with a science course and perhaps a humanities, nothing too drastic, but enough to give you a small boost.”

“A _summer_ class?” Sansa gaped. “But I thought you were supposed to have the summer to have fun and hang out and see all your friends before you leave. Or at least in my case, before _they_ leave.”

“A ten week course of a couple hours a day is not going to kill you, Sansa. You will still be able to see your friends and you will still be able to enjoy your summer before the course load picks up in September. I am not saying you have to register for full credits, I am just suggesting a class or two.”

“And this is the only way to get that scholarship?” Sansa asked. Ms. Mordane nodded her head.

“This would be it,” she went back to her computer, moving the mouse around. “I would recommend signing up for three courses. You can qualify for a scholarship during the summer with that through our assistance program, and I’ll put in a good word for you seeing your situation and the loss of income in your family.”

Sansa hung her head. She felt her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the fact that her family was slowly becoming poor in the rich city of King’s Landing. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Sansa. Your mother has quite the brood; those are a lot of mouths to feed.”

Sansa nodded her head. “What classes are you signing me up for?”

“Well,” Ms. Mordane leaned in toward her computer, squinting again. “There is a history class at eight in the morning,”

“ _Eight_?” Sansa squealed.

“I am sure you can manage that early in the morning for ten weeks,” Ms. Mordane assured her. “That will last every day for the ten weeks and count towards two classes. We can sign you up for an introduction to consumer science class, a good class to take if you are interested in fashion design. That would be on Monday and Wednesday at eleven.” Ms. Mordane began to click things on the computer, squinting as she moved the mouse more rapidly in her hand, her clicks more frequent. “And…a biology class at three on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“Okay,” Sansa sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“This is for the best, Sansa. And you should know that you will be expected to work in these classes.” Ms. Mordane clicked several more times on the mouse and the muffled sound of a printer’s rollers signaled that she had sent something to the printer. She took the paper the printer spit out in hand, looking at it before passing it over to Sansa.

“These will begin in four weeks’ time; you are welcome to scout out the classrooms when you have the ability.” Sansa took the paper in hand, looking at the classes, times, rooms, and professors on the schedule she had been handed. “You will also need to return to get your identification and parking pass sorted out.”

“Oh, I won’t have a parking pass,” Sansa flushed.

“Then you’ll definitely want your student id, so that you are able to take the bus systems for free.”

Sansa flushed even further as she thought about being the student who would have to take public transportation. “We are all set here, Sansa. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to give me a call, I included my number and email on the bottom of your schedule.”

She folded the paper and tucked it into her purse, standing and placing it over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she muttered as she turned to leave the office.

“Sansa, use this semester wisely. I know your family is not poor, but we cannot all be as rich as the Lannisters. The Starks certainly do not have money to waste on frivolity.”

Sansa looked back toward the door and then opened it, shutting it firmly behind her as she walked into the waiting area. Sansa spotted Tyrion sitting in his chair, his feet propped up on the coffee table that he had dragged closer to him. He was reading a magazine with a beautiful looking car on the front, but dropped it as she walked into the room, her flip flops echoing her steps had clearly alerted him to another’s presence.

The receptionist turned to acknowledge Sansa, and then went back to her game of solitaire. Sansa made her way to the door, her arms crossed before her.

“Sansa,” Tyrion called after her. Sansa turned suddenly and looked at him. “I just wanted to say—be careful.”

“Excuse me?” Sansa felt her face wrinkle in confusion.

“My nephew. Just, be careful with him.” Tyrion responded.

Ms. Mordane came out of her room after a moment and called the little man’s name. He jumped down to his feet, turning to look at Sansa. “Good day, Sansa Stark.”

He then turned and went into the office, Sansa watched him as he went into the room before Ms. Mordane and she closed the door behind her. Sansa then turned and made her way quickly out of the office, as confused and mixed up leaving as she had been entering that morning.

 


	5. Advice After Fights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so bad that this always get put on the backburner, so I am going to do my best to make this more of a priority! Especially since I figured out a good portion of the plot already! Hope you enjoy this update!

The weather was nice enough that the administration decided to open up the courtyard for lunch on the seasonably warm afternoon. Sansa was glad that she had taken to wearing a powder blue halter top with her frayed shorts. While the school policy permitted that she wear a shrug over her alabaster shoulders (and so did her mother), her outfit was freeing enough on the hot day.

She took to sitting with Margaery under one of the trees, each perched cross legged and facing one another on a stone bench, their lunches between them. Margaery balanced a tupperware of salad on her palm, her hand elegantly holding a fork as she animatedly reviewed the gowns Sansa and she had discovered the previous Saturday. Sansa held a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in hand as she laughed at her friend's dramatic reenactments of good gowns and bad gowns.

"I still think you should have bought that green one," Margaery insisted before take a bit of salad. Sansa shrugged her shoulders.

"I liked the purple one best; besides, you're only saying that because you like green." Sansa rolled her eyes. "Plus, it's a bit low in the chest and lacking in the ribcage, my mother barely let me out of the house this morning with these on."

"She would have agreed if she saw how absolutely stunning your cheerleader bod was in it." Margaery's smile widened as she teased Sansa. "So how did your meeting with the college scheduling lady go?"

"Ms. Mordane?"

"Yeah, her," Margaery rolled her eyes. "What did she suggest you do about next year?"

"She didn't give me much option in regards of to go or not to go," Sansa shrugged her shoulders. "She just kinda made sure I was there and she had me register for three summer courses."

"Summer courses?" Margaery's eyes widened. "But we were supposed to make a trip out to Highgarden for the summer, to go to the beach and visit the shoreline."

"I'm only supposed to be in classes for eight weeks," Sansa replied.

"But that is two months nonetheless," Margaery groaned.

"I don't have much of a choice if I want to qualify for the cheerleading scholarship."

"You should just marry Joffrey, his family is rich. I heard he's not even going to school next year, he's going to be groomed to manage his family's business." Margaery smiled.

"How do you know all of these things?" Sansa looked over at her friend with narrowed eyes. Margaery pushed a lock of her dark hair over her shoulder.

"You forget that I've been with the mayor's much younger brother for about a year now."

"What is Renly going to do when you go off to school and are nowhere near King's Landing?"

"Well," Margaery began, starting to pack up her tupperware and place it back into her shoulder bag. "I'm not going very far from here. I'll be going to Kingdom's College this fall."

"I thought your family was relocating back to Highgarden now that you are done with your basic schooling?" Margaery's family, the Tyrells, had located to King's Landing when Margaery was a young teenager, her brothers Loras and Willas went on to attend Kingdom's College, but both were graduating this year as well.

"Grandmother Olena is going to be living in the area so that I can attend Kingdom's College here since I was accepted into their hospitality management program."

"You didn't tell me that you were accepted!" Sansa shrieked in excitement. "When did you find out?"

"Last week, I was just waiting for a good moment to tell you."

"The best moment would have been right after you found out." Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Well, now you know. So I'll be in the area." Margaery reached out to place a hand on Sansa's forearm.

"Margaery, Sansa," A voice interrupted the girl's conversation, causing Sansa to jolt in fright. Margaery's hand gripping the arm she had just rest it on kept her from tumbling off the bench.

"Joffrey," Margaery let out a light hearted laugh as Sansa tried to catch her breath. "You startled us."

"I was just over hearing you two talking about your plans for next year." Joffrey placed his hands on his hips, looking down on the girls, his green eyes lingered on Sansa's bare legs.

"I am going to Kingdom's College this year," Margaery continued to speak. Though Joffrey had asked Sansa to prom, he was very much a stranger to her and she found that his attractiveness caused her tongue to stumble over itself.

"I just got into that college as well," Joffrey's small mouth broke into a smile.

"I heard that you were training under your grandfather," Margaery replied.

"I was supposed to, but my father wants me to go into politics like he is. Become the future mayor of King's Landing someday." Joffrey looked to Sansa once more. "Are you staying in the area, Sansa?"

"Yeah, I'll be going to...to King's Landing Community College," Sansa's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as her friends were accepted to one of the most esteemed school in Westeros.

"Oh," Joffrey's smile shrank as he watched Sansa. "That's such a shame to hear. I thought you'd be attending one of the best schools in the area."

"Yeah, but Kingdom's College unfortunately does not have my program and I'm still looking for a great one to get into," Sansa fibbed.

Margaery's eyebrows knitted as looked from Joffrey back to her friend. "I thought you were interested in pursuing a hospitality management degree as well. We were going to study the same things and maybe start a business together?"

"Oh, I am thinking about going into fashion now." Sansa shrugged her shoulders. "We made that plan like years ago, Marge, and I mean, we've both grown up a bit. I just want to make dresses that are going to be seen on the Dorne Runways someday." Sansa felt uncomfortable as she dismissed Margaery's genuine confusion to sound more confident in front of Joffrey.

"I am sure you'll make a lot of money someday, Sansa." Joffrey offered.

"Uh, yeah," Sansa shrugged.

"While you're at KLCC, just watch out for one of my more embarrassing family members," Joffrey rolled his green eyes.

"Oh?" Margaery had continued to stare Sansa down in confusion, but now she was looking back up to Joffrey.

"My uncle, you know," Joffrey looked around him, side to side, in a gesture which suggested he didn't want anyone listening into their conversation. " _The Imp._ He's going to be going to that college this year. Petyr Baelish, that creepy old pervert that did the money books for my father, he left the county and went back to his hometown near Vale in order to help some people out with their own business." Joffrey let out a dramatic sigh and crossed his arms. "Whatever the hell he is doing, I am glad that my father wants me to attend school for a future career in politics, seeing as I don't want to be anywhere near my uncle this summer. He's training to take Baelish's place."

"Interesting," Margaery looked over to Sansa with a frown. "Well, at least he'll be out of the house for a bit?"

"Sure, I mean, I wouldn't mind if he ended up on the wrong side of a gun in these recent Mafia House Wars." Joffrey laughed.

"I thought they were just local gangs?" Sansa shook her head.

"Sure, that's what the papers want you to believe, so as not to cause a panic in the city and whatnot. But my father has been having to deal with all these larger mob fathers that are rich enough to keep their hands clean, but not clean enough to not be suspected." Joffrey explained. "In fact, your father was a suspected leader for House Stark,"

"He was not!" Sansa insisted.

"'Fraid so. He was supposedly trying to infiltrate my grandfather's business, wanting to bankrupt the company."

Sansa wanted to say something, anything but her father was no longer a popular figure, and the Lannisters were one of the most respected, and feared, families in town. No one would accuse the family, especially the head, Tywin Lannister, of misconduct and no one would certainly voice their opinion or do anything about it if that was what they thought. So she merely looked back to the mostly eaten sandwich in her hand, finding that she no longer wanted to finish it.

"I know it's a shameful thing, to have a father that wanted to take down a family like the Lannisters; it's a good thing he was stopped before he did anything shameful."

"Yeah," Sansa nodded her head robotically. She felt a bit sick as she looked back to Joffrey.

"Sansa, tell Joff how you picked out your dress for prom already!" Margaery interrupted, saving the trio from an awkward silence.

"You already bought a dress?"

"It's a purple one, floor length," Sansa replied. "I was thinking maybe of getting you a lavender tie for your tux." Sansa tried to brush the nagging feeling of regret lingering in the back of her mind. She could hear Tyrion's voice in her ear. _Just be careful._

"What a shame, I was having a dress tailored especially for you," Joffrey shook his head.

"You were?"

"I wouldn't want to show up at prom with a girl whose dress I didn't personally choose, it would run the risk of not getting prom king, and queen of course, if we were not perfectly suited for one another." Joffrey rolled his eyes. "And _purple?_ I feel it more appropriate to wear red, with a gold trimming. My grandfather had a suit he passed down to me, a beautiful black tuxedo with a red and gold tie. That is the type of dress you are going to get, Sansa."

"I don't know how I'll pay you for it." Sansa shifted uneasily.

"Oh, don't worry. That will all be taken care of for you. There isn't any point in worrying about price. It's half the reason I want to make sure I have a dress made for you. I can only imagine the dress your funds might have bought."

Sansa felt repeatedly slapped in the face as she looked up at Joffrey. "Excuse me?"

"Sansa," Joffrey shifted, a smile crossing his thin lips. "It isn't a secret that your family doesn't have any money now that your father's dead. Your mother is working some secretary job, isn't she? I can't imagine that makes a lot of money for your family. Especially with your brother, the one in the wheelchair, right?"

"Bran?" Sansa looked over to Margaery, but her friend was glaring back with steady brown eyes.

"Sure, that one. He must cost a whole lot to keep moving. So see this as a gift, Sansa. One of the many gifts I'll give you in our relationship together."

"Uhm, thanks?" Sansa shook her head. "But you don't have to buy me, Joff."

"I know I don't, Sansa, I just want to." He crossed his arms over his slender torso. "Are you not happy with my willingness to help you out?"

"No, I am very grateful, Joffrey. Truly I am."

"Then you should come over to my house this weekend, come and try the dress on and be sure it fits perfectly."

"Yeah, I think I can do that?" Sansa wanted so desperately for Margaery to throw her a lifeline, but her friend was quiet. "Maybe Margaery would like to come with me?"

"Sure, if you want to bring her." Joffrey shrugged his shoulders. "So I'll have a limo sent to your house for 10 am?"

"Sure," Sansa's saccharine smile hurt her cheeks, and she was glad when he turned and left.

"What the hell was that about?" Margaery asked, her arms crossing over her full breasts.

"What do you mean? You're the one that left me awkwardly hanging!" Sansa decried.

"Only because you suddenly decided to change career paths? What a load of bullshit, Sansa!" Margaery shook her dark head.

"KLCC doesn't have a hospitality program, not like Kingdom's College does," Sansa turned on her friend, anger boiling in her stomach. "And what, am I supposed to admit that my family doesn't have any money? That's so embarrassing around here."

"Well maybe you should have thought about that before agreeing to go with Joffrey to prom," Margaery replied.

"What does that mean?" Sansa asked.

"It means that maybe you should get your story straight before chasing after the richest boy in the school."

"What do you even care, you have Renly!" Sansa shouted.

"You bet your sweet ass I do, Sansa Stark." Margaery stood. "And maybe he wouldn't have kept certain details from _me_ about his motives for things."

"Margaery!"

"God, I can't believe you'd make me sound like an idiot because of some boy. You need to grow the fuck up, Sansa." Margaery stood and topped her Tupperware, throwing it in her bag and walking away.

"Margaery! Come on, Marge! We can talk about this!" Sansa stood.

Margaery continued to walk away, holding her middle finger up in the air as she entered the school doors.

* * *

The house was quiet for once, with Arya out at her martial arts class with Jon, and Bran and Rickon getting along with a video game in the living room. Her mother was still out at a job and Robb was left home to babysit and make sure the house didn't burn down. He usually made dinner for his younger siblings, but he ordered out for pizza that night. Sansa had taken a piece and slunk off to her room without another word.

Sansa was glad for the quiet as she sat on her bed, her knees against her chest as she placed her chin on the yoga pants clad caps. She had tears streaming down her face, and she held between her breasts and her thighs a doll her father had gotten for her when she was younger. She wished now that he was here; he could make everything right.

A knock on the door startled Sansa, causing her to rush to throw the doll next to her pillow and wipe at her tear stained cheeks with the sides of her hands. She sniffed before shouting "Come in," to the intruder.

Robb came into the room with a mug in his hand and a plate on the other. He offered it forth and Sansa saw that small lemon cakes were lined in a heart on the surface. She smiled as she took the plate and the mug, which contained warm milk, in hand.

"I know you're probably not supposed to be eating that shit, but I figured you looked like you could use some cheering up. D'ya mind if I come in?" Robb asked. Sansa smiled and shook her head, patting the comforter next to her. Robb entered and turned, plopping himself down heavily on the mattress and causing Sansa to bounce as a result of his added weight.

"You're going to make me spill this all over my bed," Sansa halfheartedly scolded him.

"Ah well, you probably will clean these this weekend anyways, or it'll at least force you to," Robb nudged her arm and winked his blue eyes at her. "What's going on, sis?"

"Nothing," Sansa replied, taking a lemon cookie in hand and taking a generous bite. She chased down the sweet with a cup of milk.

"Okay, what boy am I going to have de-ball?" He sighed as he pushed himself up to lean against the wall. Sansa looked over at him, a small smile on her mouth.

"None, I promise,"

"I do not come into the pretty pink room of Sansa Stark to be visually molested by butterflies and choked to death by perfume for no reason," Robb looked over at her. Sansa nudged his arm with annoyance, rolling her eyes. "Ow!"

"Oh, please," Sansa said.

"C'mon, sis, what's bothering you? And you've got mascara and whatever else you put on those pretty eyes of yours running all down your cheeks, so you can't lie to me! Ha!" He was always so playful with her, his kind protective nature underneath had Sansa thankful for the brother she was blessed with.

"Margaery and I just got into a stupid fight," Sansa shook her head. Robb wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh man, that sounds like the end of the world," his teasing kept her from turning her smile into a frown.

"No, but it sucks. I know it's because I was acting like a total twat—"

"Language," Robb warned.

"—twit—"

"Thank you,"

"And I mean, we both should have told each other things that we didn't and it's just a giant mess."

"And what was it that you were supposed to tell her, Sasa?" Robb reverted to her childish pet name, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Just—that I'm going to KLCC this year, and we were talking to Joffrey and I just was embarrassed because he and Marge are going to Kingdom's College this year and I can't." Sansa could not stop. "And I told Joff it's because I wanted to go into fashion and get all famous when Marge and I were talking about going into hospitality management—that's, like, the fancy name for becoming an event planner—and we were always like 'we'll make a business together and call it Sangaery' and we were going to do all these things. And I didn't tell her that I wasn't going to do event planning anymore and I mean, I made her sound like an idiot in front of Joffrey and it was all my fault."

"Okay, breathe," Robb squeezed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards him.

"Sorry," Sansa gasped for air. "It's just a huge mess and it's because of Joffrey, which I know you don't want to hear because you hate him and his family but, like, I can't help but like him."

"You know he's a total git, right?" Robb looked over at her. Sansa sighed.

"He was kind of mean today, sure." She bit her lip. "I am sure he really didn't mean it. Usually he's just really smiley with me and he is very kind, but he got all hung up about dress prices and not having money to look nice and stuff because he heard me and Margaery talking about dresses," she tried to avoid the fact that she was still planning on attending prom with Joffrey. "But, I mean, everyone is rich in King's Landing and we don't have much money with father being gone and, y'know, it's just hard to not fit in with everyone else."

"Oh, Sansa," Robb shook his reddish brown hair. "My silly little sister, it doesn't matter whether you have money or not, it doesn't matter whether you are dating the most popular guy in the school or not, it just matters that you are staying true to the friends you've made. And that may change, Sasa. You may not have the same friends in the next couple months that you do now. That's high school. And part of college is figuring out what direction you want to go in. You may not want to go into event planning, or whatever the hell you promised Margaery Tyrell that you'd do. You forget that she can be a rich bitch herself."

"Robb!" Sansa scolded him. Robb laughed.

"I mean that in the nicest way possible. Yeah, there may be a lot of people here that make a lot more money than we do, but have you seen Joffrey's family? It's completely—and do _not_ tell mum I said this in front of you—it's completely fucked up."

"I've heard that from a firsthand witness," Sansa looked at her lap, taking another lemon cookie in hand.

"And you've got me and Jon and Arya and Bran and Rickon and mum, and we're not going anywhere, I promise you, Sansa. We're here to haunt you forever and make sure you are loved and know that we love you no matter what. Sure, Margaery may be pissed at you right now, but don't get upset over it. Apologize to her and leave it at that."

"I think she'll still be mad at me,"

"Then she'll be mad. She'll be going to Kingdom's College and she'll be busy with her friends and her sororities and you'll make your own friends and groups at KLCC." Robb flashed a brilliant white smile at her. "It may not be as rich and fantastic as KC, but it's so much more fun. I mean, you can pour detergent in the fountain and make the campus into a giant bubble machine."

"You did that?!" Sansa exclaimed.

"Jon and me, but yeah. It was a good time." Robb shrugged his shoulders. Sansa laughed at the memory of the image of a photo in the newspaper, an image of KLCC's fountain overflowing with bubbles and the headline announcing that the pranksters were still at large. Sansa found the incident even more funny now that she knew her practical, rule following brother was involved.

"Robb, I have another question," Sansa's smile melted as she knew she wanted to ask her brother one final hard question.

"What is it, Sasa?"

"Was father apart of a mafia, or like a house gang association thing?" Sansa pulled away from his arm and shifted her body to face him.

"I think that is still called a mafia," Robb offered.

"You know what I mean," Sansa rolled her eyes.

"Why are you asking that?" Robb narrowed his blue eyes at her, his dark eyebrows knitting in suspicion.

"Joffrey said something about all these mafia wars going on between Houses and that father was suspected to be a part of one. Or rather, _the leader_ of House Stark. But father never just killed people to prove he had power."

"I wouldn't call what father did a mafia," Robb chewed his lip, his eyes falling to his lap as he shifted a knee up and locked it in place against his stomach by wrapping his arms about it. "But there was like a watch group going on. Yeah, that's what I'd call it."

"And did he want to get the Lannisters in some trouble?" Sansa asked.

Robb picked at the hole in the jeans which sprouted at his knee. "I don't know how much to tell you, Sansa, without mother getting angry. So if I tell you anything, you have to promise not tell a single soul."

"Of course!" Sansa held out her right fist, her pinkie finger extended. Robb sighed and reluctantly mirrored the image, the two twisting the two digits around each other and kissing the thumb of their fists before turning and spitting in a ritual of sealing a promise.

"Fine." Robb pulled at the white strings of his grey zip up sweatshirt in nervousness. "There was something going on weird with the Lannisters. Like, father had to do some random paternity test on Joffrey because Mayor Robert was accused of something or other and having bastards on different women along the campaign trail he boasted. And then someone accused your coach of cheating on him and yeah—they wanted to sort that all out. Turns out that maybe Joffrey may not be Robert's?"

"But how would father know?" Sansa shook her head. "He didn't, like, interpret that stuff."

"No, but a scientist that really trusted him said that they were bribing to keep the records private and to lie about the real parentage." Robb shrugged his shoulders.

"So if Joffrey is not Robert's, whose kid would he be?" Sansa asked.

"Leads say that Cersei was cheating with her cousin, Jaime," Robb replied.

"What?" Sansa howled, a disgusted scowl formed on her face.

"Shush!" Robb slapped his hand over her mouth. "I just said that it was suspected leads. Nothing is proven."

"That is so gross," Sansa groaned.

"And think about how people would react to Robert's, and future little Joffrey's, political campaign if they found out that Joffrey was the product of incest."

"The only more gross thing would be if Jaime was Cersei's brother!" Sansa squealed.

"Yes, let's make it grosser than it possibly is, Sansa. Real mature." Robb exaggeratedly rolled his eyes.

"I'm just saying," Sansa tried to plead her statement valid.

"Whatever, you just can't tell _anyone_ , Sansa. You could get yourself into a lot of trouble with that knowledge. Hell, all of us could get in trouble with that information," Robb ran his fingers through his thick curly hair.

"I won't tell anyone, I don't even want to _think_ about that again. Plus we twisted, kissed, and spat on it. It's so sealed I don't even know we talked about anymore. It's all gone from my memory," she replied.

"Oh, I'm so glad it's buried under that mountain of hair of yours." Robb laughed.

"Oh, come on, my hair cannot be as bad as that pathetic beard you are trying to grow." Sansa rolled her eyes, gently smacking the short, straight dark beard which Robb was beginning to sport.

"Hey, I am quite proud of this specimen," Robb rubbed his chin with an air of pride. "And you should think twice before insulting the guy who just made you your favorite dessert in the whole wide world _and_ brought it into you on a tray."

Sansa laughed and flung her arms around her brother's neck. "Oh, thank you Robb. You are my life saver and hero!"

"There's no need to push it, Sansa." Robb puffed his chest out. "But seriously, if any boy needs their balls removed in a painful way for hurting you, you come and tell me. Deal?"

"Deal." Sansa nodded her head, increasing her grip around her brother's neck. "I love you, Robb."

"I love you, too, Sasa."

"And my love is not going to keep me from killing you if you ever call me that name outside of this room," Sansa threatened.

"I wouldn't tell a soul," he vowed.

"Good, since you're being so nice, _maybe_ I'll let you havea lemon cookie," Sansa held one forward. Robb took it.

"Thank you, my princess, your kindness is overwhelming."

The two looked at one another and burst out laughing.


	6. The Rescue and Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so slow going, guys! But thanks for holding on! Leave a review if you can. I love you all- Lydia

Her legs were soft and her body was warm, that was all Tyrion was concerned about for the time being. Shae lay spread across the width of his bed, her calves hanging over the edge. His head rested on her stomach, rising and falling with each breath she took. He could even hear her heartbeat, though it was not as loud as the squishing rumble that was echoing in her belly.

"Are you trying to tell me non-verbally that you are hungry?" He sat up, leaning on his elbow to look over at her. Shae had placed her arms behind her head, lazily looking up at the ceiling with her dark eyes.

"I'm sorry, master, is my tummy too grumbly for you?" She asked as she rolled her eyes. "Perhaps you should call for one of your fancy butlers to pop down into the kitchen and make us some food."

"Right, and have other people know that you're in this house?" Tyrion smirked. "Do you want to get yourself in trouble?"

"I'm a prostitute, isn't my whole line of work trouble," she bit her finger seductively, her eyes boring into his head. "Unfortunately for me, I am a slut that needs to eat, and sleep in her own bed."

Tyrion turned his head to look over at the alarm clock's red letters that sat on his night stand. It was nearing twelve. "It's still early, Shae. C'mon, it's a Saturday."

"Which means I have a busy night," she smiled as she leaned up and pinched his cheek.

"You're lying, you don't service anyone but me," he insisted. "I'm the only guy that has the cash,"

"Oh, you are so sweet," she ran her fingers along his jawline. "I am actually auditioning for a job downtown this evening, and I want to look my best." She ran her fingers through her long dark hair, arching her back and straightening her arms so that it rose and fell in curtains around her neck.

"What kind of a job?" Tyrion asked. "Are you going to be bartending?"

"Yes, Tyrion, I'll be bartending." She rolled her eyes."

"You should get a job here, as a maid or something," he didn't want to see her go. He knew that she was going to get another gig as a dancer, and he didn't relish the idea of having other men see her naked.

"Because your father won't think that's suspicious or anything?" Shae cocked her eyebrow. She pushed him away from her, sliding off the bed and onto the floor, her long legs gleaming in the sun peeking through his curtains.

He watched her nude form with all its curves cross the room, his eyes taking in the sway of her buttocks as she walked. She took to the window, both hands grasping the edge of the dark curtains.

"No, don't!" Tyrion lunged forward, but it was too late. She flung open the curtains with a force he never expected she had and was standing in front of his window, stark naked, and revealing in the light.

"Oh calm down, I'm sure I'll just give some helpless gardener a boner he can jack off when he goes to the tool shed." She turned and lackadaisically crossed the room once more, this time sweeping her elegant dress and panties from the floor. She held her underwear out, stepping into each leg hole carefully, pulling them up slowly to cover the gentle nub of her hip bone. She was doing it to give _him_ a boner, he thought, she relished the thought of him beating off once she left.

"Fine, I'll at least walk you to the door. Make you look like a socialite in case someone does catch us," he offered, jumping off the bed and grabbing his boxers which had been tossed to the floor the night before.

"Tyrion, let us be honest with ourselves," she spoke as she pulled the pink dress over her head. "I don't look like a socialite, and no socialite would sleep with you anyways."

Tyrion felt the insult jolt through him like a lightning strike. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He turned his head.

"I just don't think you…measure up to their expectations," he knew it was no accident in choosing the word. "You are well and fine for me, however, and that's the way I like it."

"You're a real bitch, you know that?" Tyrion commented.

"And yet you keep coming back to me, what does that say about you?" She asked. Tyrion rolled his eyes as he rummaged through his pants drawer.

She was dressed and ready more quickly than he, and was patiently waiting on his bed as he pulled a crimson shirt over his head. He looked at her without talking and she stood, walking up to lean over and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Don't be bitter with me; maybe I'll consider that maid job. Keep me around more often to remind me how much I do like you," she kissed his cheek, then his mouth. He could not help but kiss her back. Her mouth was still minty, even though she had spent much of the night with his cock in it. He knew he probably had a case of morning breath, but he brushed away the thought as she tightened her grip around him.

The two left the room together, quickly descending the stairs. Tyrion led her down a back hall to one of the side doors which led to the expansive lawn. He had insisted on driving Shae home, but she refused and claimed she didn't want him to know where she lived. "Occupational policy, you understand." She had smiled coyly.

They were halfway down the hall in their escape when he heard Joffrey's voice. He winced at the notion of having to hear the grating nuisance so early in the morning, and his father was not here for him to complain that the boy leave. Not that Tyrion's complaints much mattered to Tywin, but it at least made Tyrion feel a bit better to whinge about it.

He thought nothing of Joffrey in the guest room downstairs until he heard a female voice attempting to reason with him.

"I don't think my mother is going to care for this."

Tyrion froze. He had heard that voice before. But who was it? He made his way backwards toward the door of the room, Shae turning to glare at him angrily.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She whispered harshly.

"Shhhh!" He commanded, waving his hand at her. She rolled her eyes and went to his side. He stopped again to turn and look at the woman. "No! You can't be seen especially by Joffrey. He'll surely tell Cersei." He licked his lips before continuing. "Go straight down the hall until you reach the laundry area and the door to your left will take you out."

"You really are a true gentleman," Shae rolled her eyes.

"And you really are a lady," Tyrion retorted. She turned and stormed away, her bare feet slapping against the marble as she held her black heels in hand.

The dwarf then turned to guest door once again, where the girl's insistence was becoming vehement.

"Really, Joffrey, you are kind to offer to get this for me, but the dress Margaery and I picked out is beautiful. I really think you'll like it."

"I only like what I pick out, and I didn't pick out the dress which you and Margaery bought without my consent," Joffrey replied.

Tyrion turned the corner and instantly regretted the decision. Standing before him was not a girl, but the blossoming woman called Sansa Stark. She was standing on a stool before a full length mirror, a seamstress squatting at her side to pull at bits of the crimson fabric she wore. When Tyrion entered, the auburn haired woman turned, her cheeks alighting pink as she caught sight of him. He realized the instant why she refused Joffrey's gift gown.

The crimson dress was rather revealing; it hugged her breasts tightly, and corseted her curvy waist. Accent cutouts displayed her smooth pale skin below her chest, curling around to nearly conceal her belly button. The gown continued in its slinky design as it was belted at her wide hips with sequins, then flowed past her legs. Sansa hugged her abdomen uncomfortably as Tyrion remained frozen.

"What…what is going on here?" He shook the thought of Sansa's breasts from his mind.

"Nothing which concerns you, uncle." Joffrey turned his back on the smaller man. Tyrion smiled, nothing which concerned him was the exact business he liked to know of.

"Well that just means I am all the more interested," he turned to Sansa, completely acknowledging her. "Good morning, Miss Stark."

"It's near noon," she coughed.

"So it is," he tilted his head to look up into her beautiful blue eyes. He could see them dancing with near tears, glass windows which threatened to break and spill forth her fear. "You look good, in the gown, though I am not sure that a lady who feels uncomfortable in her clothing is going to look her best."

"This is the gown which is going to match my tuxedo," Joffrey crossed his arms before his chest. "And she is a cheerleader. What is the point of working out if she is not going to flaunt it off?"

Tyrion felt his belly burn at the off handed comment.

"Please, Joff, can't you just look at my other dress?" Sansa asked. "I brought it, over there, in the box," she pointed to the guest bed which Joffrey stood in front of, and sure enough a white box sat atop the nice made comforter.

"No, it isn't going to do." Joffrey roared.

"Let the girl alone!" Tyrion stepped toward his nephew. "She does not wish to wear this dress, and it is as much her prom as it is yours. Let her enjoy herself."

"This doesn't concern you!" Joffrey's face was turning red with anger.

"If a woman as modest and lovely as Sansa is being forced to do things against her wishes, then I do think it concerns me," Tyrion replied. "You are going to cause a scandal, being the governor's son, Joff! Do you think that would be a good way to start an illustrious political career?"

"Why won't you just do as you're told?" Joffrey flittered past Tyrion, making his way to Sansa. Tyrion felt his heart pound as he feared his nephew's rage against the girl. The seamstress had flown at the first sign of trouble, leaving Sansa on her own. Joffrey grabbed for her wrist, but Sansa flew backwards, landing on her backside on the ground. A ripping sound filled the room and he looked over to see that the gown had split down one of her hips, opening the skirt from hip to knee.

"Look what you've done now!" Joffrey raged.

"Leave her be, I'll pay for the damages if the dress means so bloody much to you!" Tyrion cried. "If you had half a brain, you'd let her wear whatever dress she wanted. Instead of making stupid mistakes like your father, waltzing about and doing as he pleased and knocking women up without a care."

"You are going to pay for this, Imp!" Joffrey pointed a finger at him, but turned on his tennis shoe clad heels and stomped out of the room.

Tyrion was panting in rage, trying to calm himself as he watched Joffrey leave. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he could feel the tension in his brow. His breath did subside, however, and the room was filled with a different sound.

He turned to see Sansa sitting on the floor still, her hands pressed to her face as her shoulders bobbed up and down. He shook his head, coming towards her and holding out his hand.

"Do not cry over him, Sansa Stark," Tyrion insisted. She looked up at him, her blue eyes rimmed red as a few fat tears spilled over her cheek.

"I thought—I thought he was going to hurt me," Sansa shook where she sat. Tyrion held his hand out to her with more emphasis, and caught her looking at it. He bowed his head, reaching even further forward.

He was surprised when he felt the long slim fingers of the young woman wrap around his stubbier ones. He gently helped her balance as she stood.

"Thank you," she said. He looked up at her and saw that she held the tear of the dress in a bunched fist. "I am going to be in so much trouble for this."

"I will take care of it, I insist." Tyrion replied. "In the meantime, I'd like to see the dress you and Margaery Tyrell picked out. I am sure it is a fine color, and maybe I can talk some sense into my nephew. Since you aren't looking prepared to leave his side yet," Tyrion left her side to grab hold of the box sitting on the guest bed. He handed it to her when he returned.

"Why are you helping me?" She took it, her blue eyes looking warily at him.

"As sort of an apology for the incident we had a couple weeks ago," Tyrion answered. "And because I am very sorry regarding the way your family has been treated since your father's death, especially by this family."

He looked up at her, but her face showed no emotion other than genuine puzzlement. They stood for a few seconds, staring at one another before Sansa moved.

"Do you just want to see it, or do you want to see it on me?" She flushed pink.

"Whatever you're comfortable with, Miss Stark." Tyrion realized how creepy it must have sounded for him to ask to see the dress. "I just want to help you and your situation, not take advantage of it."

"I'll go put it on," Sansa decided. "It fits different when it's worn than it looks in the box."

"Well, then, my lady, go and change in the bathroom, and I will patiently wait. Just give me the ruined dress when you are done."

He watched her slip off to the guest bathroom, crossing his arms before his chest. What had possessed him to interfere in the matter? Yes, he was concerned with his nephew's rash behavior, but why had he stayed to help her instead of going for the seamstress or a maid and sending the girl on her way? He tapped his fingers against his forearm as he crossed them over his chest.

It was not long before Sansa emerged from the bathroom. She was right; the dress was an exquisite purple, and did well to contrast the beautiful red of her hair. The dress had thick straps which covered from mid collarbone to shoulder, the neckline was square and swooped low enough to show a hint of cleavage while remaining modest. Her waist was done in with a silvery purple corset, the rest of the dress letting out at her hips to sashay around her legs. It hit the floor, but when she stepped toward him, he saw her elegant feet slip out from under the hem.

"You are making me uncomfortable again," Sansa spoke. Tyrion shook his head, not realizing that he had his mouth open the entire time.

"The color is beautiful, Sansa," he answered her.

"It's called Tyrian purple," she flushed. "I didn't think of the name much, I guess. It's spelled differently."

"Well, it's a fine purple. I'm glad to be associated with it," he answered her. "You look absolutely beautiful in this, Sansa. Of course, you're more comfortable, which truly does help," he felt embarrassed giving her compliments, but it seemed a sin not to. "I should definitely encourage Joffrey to give a second thought to this dress."

"I know he is disappointed because he doesn't think I am going to look good enough for the prom," Sansa replied, her hands twisting in front of her hips as she chewed her lip, causing the bottom flesh to swell a brilliant red. Tyrion wondered what it'd be like to kiss her, but then quickly shook the thought from mind.

"Why is that?"

"Because my family is not as wealthy as we once were," she answered. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this."

"I won't breathe a word of your worries to anyone," Tyrion replied. He walked toward her, gesturing his hand out to her once more. She offered her hand forth, and he enveloped it with his other hand. "Sansa, if you don't want to be with Joffrey, if you want this relationship to end, tell me."

"No, Joffrey's a good guy, he's just—"

"Sansa, I can see it in your eyes now that you don't believe a word of it," Tyrion cut her off. "My nephew is handsome and what you'd call a jock, a real hit with the ladies and your reputation I am sure, but do not play with fire if it is not needed."

"I…I don't think I should dump him this close to prom. It wouldn't be fair." She insisted.

"If he's threatened you, Sansa, tell me." Tyrion felt the urge to throw her a lifeline again. Sansa's blue eyes looked down into his green ones, dancing as her gaze jumped from eye to eye.

"I…I really should be going. My mother doesn't know I'm here and she and Robb would kill me," Sansa flushed. She pulled her hand from his , turning to the bathroom once more.

"Do you need a ride or anything, Miss Stark?" Tyrion called.

"No, I'm fine." She insisted.

She was out in a flash, wearing a pair of flared jeans and a grey t-shirt, the box for her dress balanced on her hip. "I really need to go."

"I am not going to stop you, Sansa."

"Thank you, Tyrion, for…for everything." She said before walking past him.

"Oh, Sansa," Tyrion spoke up once more before she passed.

"Yes?" She paused at the door, her hand resting on the wooden frame.

"If he ever touches you or treats you as such again, I want you to tell me. I will end it." He felt the fiery rage in his own voice, startled by its presence.

"Sure," she offered as she flushed pink once more. She left the room in a blink and Tyrion was left standing with a ruined dress at his feet.

What was this Stark girl doing to him? At least they'd be free of one another when the two went off to college and separate ways, only fated to pass by and exchange awkward glances at the community college. The last thing that girl needed was to get tangled up with him.


	7. Unwanted Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after a million years I finally updated this. This one is moving so slowly more because I have an idea of where I want to be, but I still need to get there. With that being said, I have a better idea of how to get there now, so hopefully that will translate to more updates. I hope you enjoy this for now! Thanks for your patience, and all your support!
> 
> Always- Lydia

Sansa pulled her grey zipped sweatshirt close around her thin body as she walked down the hall, her eyes concentrated on her white sneakered feet avoiding contact from anyone. She had not bothered to call Joffrey that weekend, and she was sure that would be some price to pay for her neglect. She had been nothing but embarrassed at her last visit to his house, and the thought of seeing him again made her stomach throb.

But she had already committed to go to prom with the boy, and she could only guess that he had been acting out because he wanted the two of them to look their best. The dress he had chosen had only caused her to feel more exposed, not beautiful and elegant. She was not one of those downtown prostitutes her father had arrested almost weekly, their bodies bared to attract attention.

She did not want to draw eyes that way. Not at all. But how was she to tell Joffrey that she hated the dress? That she really did not want to wear it?

"Sansa!" A cold voice shouted down the hall.

Sansa turned, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, as she watched Joffrey approach. He was being trailed by several of his teammates from the baseball team, the crew wearing their jerseys to promote their game the day after prom.

"Joff," she forced a smile on her mouth. "I am sorry, I meant to call you but—"

She was looking for an excuse to explain to him why she hadn't called as he approached, but was silenced when he pushed her into the lockers she was standing in front of, sending her into the metal with a loud  _clang_ , her messenger bag falling from her shoulder and collapsing to the floor, her books sent scattering.

She fought to gain her footing, the metal cool on her skin as she used it for support.

"Is there a reason you can't use your phone?" Joffrey stalked closer to her, and she cowered, her arms crossing above her head. He took hold of her upper arm in a vice grip, and she did her best to bite back a squeal.

"I…I'm really sorry, something came up and…"

"Did that  _something_  happen to be my uncle?" Joffrey spat. Sansa shook her head wildly.

"No, no, not at all. Why would you think that?"

"I heard from one of my butlers that he was seen with you in the room after I left. That you stuck around for a bit longer. You decided you'd display yourself for him?"

"No, that is not at all what happened, Joff, I promise. He just wanted to be sure I was okay." She dared to look up at him, his green eyes danced with fury.

"Why wouldn't you be okay?"

"I don't know," Sansa tried to shake his hand off her arm, but his fingers dug into her tender flesh. "I just think he heard us fighting and wanted to be sure we weren't going to break up. Because, you know, he would feel bad if you got your feelings hurt."

"My uncle could give two shits less about my feelings." Joffrey sneered, pushing her back into the lockers once more. "You shouldn't mess around with older guys like him, Sansa."

"I wasn't, I promise!" She cried out again.

"You should know better than to ignore me, Sansa. No one ignores the Baratheons; doing so can lead to certain consequences. I thought you would have learned that from the death of your dad." Joff's eyes were cold and Sansa shuddered, looking away from him.

"Just let me go, Joff, I'm not going to do it again. I promise. I'm sorry. I just got busy and…"

Joff's hand let go of her wrist with a jerking motion, sending a twinging pain up her arm. He was no longer holding onto her, but was sent into the row of lockers across the wide hallway. A small frame was barreling into his stomach, a dark flap of hair flying backwards in a burst of speed.

Joffrey clattered into the metal letting out a loud grunt, and then fell to the floor, his arms wrapping over his head as small fists of fury landed on his forehead and shoulders. Arya let out a battle cry as she straddled the large boy and let all her fury out on him.

"Arya!" Sansa cried, ignoring the pain in her wrist. "What the hell? Stop!" Sansa cried.

Arya was unaffected by Sansa's pleas to stop. The older sister watched in fear as several of Joffrey's team mates surrounded Arya and Joffrey, the pair locked together. Sansa pushed through, grabbing for Arya's arm to pause her beating.

She was much weaker than her sister and the boy, and instead received Arya's elbow to her nose, blood pouring forth. Sansa let go a cry as she grabbed for her face, her eyes watering in the pain. Arya was letting out screams as she grabbed hold of Joffrey's shirt and started pulling his upper body toward her and then slamming it on the ground.

"Do something!" Sansa cried, her voice nasally as she tried to pinch of the bleeding from her face. She didn't want Arya to be hurt, but this was bound to end poorly for the both of them.

"What is going on?" A deep feminine voice rang down the hall, accompanied by running footsteps. Sansa turned to see a tall blonde woman followed by shorter men make their way down the halls. The cheerleader quickly stepped out of their way, opening access to the skirmish.

"What is this?" The woman grabbed for the back of Arya's collar and pulled her off the Baratheon boy. Arya was still swinging, her legs kicking as she was suspended in the air like a large kitten. Joffrey lay on the ground, his left eye swelling and his lip split.

"What is the meaning of this?" Varys was walking down from his office, his bald head shining in the lights of the hallway and his dark suit pulled tight over his softened body. "Would someone care to explain what is going on?"

The baseball team which had once been circling the fight in surprised paralysis now turned to form a horseshoe facing Principal Varys around their captain. Joffrey was sitting up on his elbows now, shaking his head.

"Joffrey," Sansa held her hand out to him. "I'm sorry, I don't know what…"

Joffrey slapped her hand away, his face turning into a sneer. "Fuck you, Sansa. And fuck your sister, too."

"Joffrey, I am sure the language is not appreciated." Varys raised his eyebrows. "I think what we need to do is have a little chat in my office." The man turned to Arya, who was being held tightly by her shoulders by the tall woman. "Do you think you can manage to have a civil conversation, Miss Stark?"

"I'd rather just split his head open on the floor," Arya growled. Varys shook his head. "Well, then we will have to have separate conversations. Thank you, Miss Tarth, you can bring the young Stark girl into my office. Joffrey can be brought to the nurse, along with Miss Sansa Stark." Varys motioned for some of the people in the hallway to help Sansa and Joffrey. "Then the two of you can have a discussion in my office."

"Sure," Joffrey grumbled, his teammates slowly coming to and helping their leader from the ground and down the hallway. When the team moved Sansa noticed that Margaery was standing off to the side. She was casually leaning against a locker, her crooked mouth curled into a smirk. Sansa caught the girl's blue eyes for a moment, but Margaery quickly turned, sending her brunette curls over her shoulder and walking away.

No one stepped forward to help Sansa, and so the girl began the walk to the nurse's office with no one to lean on, blood sprayed down her white shirt, and tears forming in her eyes.

* * *

She had not been invited to the conversation with Joffrey and Varys either. Sansa sat in the receptionist's area, her back pressed against the chair, her arms folded before her. The nurse had finally stopped her nose bleed and claimed that she had not broken it, but she would have two nice black eyes for the next few weeks. Sansa sighed at the diagnosis as prom was only six days away.

Not that Joffrey would want to bring her to prom anymore, because of her sister's actions.

What had been the nail in the coffin for Sansa was her wrist. It was wrapped in a brace for the moment, but the nurse wanted her to visit a doctor. She was worried that the tendon was sprained at best, but torn at worst. If it was torn, she would need surgery and it would certainly disqualify her from the cheer season.

Sansa leaned over in her chair, her hands coming to cover her face and she began to cry softly. Everything was going wrong. She was supposed to be going to prom with the coolest guy in school—everyone was supposed to be happy for her. She wasn't supposed to be arguing with her oldest brother about whom she was going with, or meeting Joffrey's weird uncle, or seeing Arya get into fights. This was not how she was planned for the end of her senior year to go.

Sansa had also not imagined that it would be her brother Robb sitting in with her mother at the principal's office to determine her punishment. It was in these moments that she missed her father the most.

The door to Varys office creaked open, and Sansa sat upright in her chair. She watched as Arya walked out of the room with her head held high. She stalked across the carpet to where Sansa sat, dropping into the chair next to her.

"What are they going to do?" Sansa asked. Arya shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "Are they going to suspend you?"

"Probably not, because dad's dead and this is my 'way of acting out in grief'," Arya rolled her eyes as she air quoted the phrase undoubtedly used by Robb.

"Well, that's a good thing. They won't kick you off the team."

"Yeah, well, that might not be true." Arya scowled.

"You didn't have to get involved, it was fine."

"Yeah, whatever," Arya crossed her arms.

"Sansa, would you like to come into the office?" Varys appeared at the door, waving his arm to motion her to follow him.

Sansa stood slowly, her head beginning to pound. Her shoes tapped loudly on the linoleum as she hurriedly obeyed Varys command.

Robb and her mother were sitting before the principal's desk, an empty chair separating the two of them. Sansa took to it, avoiding eye contact with her brother as she passed before him.

"Sansa, as you know, I called both Arya and Joffrey into the office to talk with them about the incident. Now, there seems to be a conflicting story being told. Joffrey said he was talking with you and Arya attacked him with no provocation. Arya, on the other hand, states that Joffrey had his hands on you and was being rather forceful about something, so she stepped in for your protection. While I do not condone combating violence with violence, it would lead to a less severe consequence for your sister."

Varys sat before the three Starks, his hands locked together and placed on the desk. He was patiently watching her with dark eyes as she sat mute before him. Sansa's foot began to bounce as she dropped her eyes to her lap, playing with her fingers.

"Sansa, there is nothing to be afraid of. If Joffrey was hurting you, we just want to know so we can put a stop to this." Her mother reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. Sansa flinched, biting her lip as she tried to figure out what to say. If she told her mother and brother the truth, she would not be able to go to prom with Joffrey. And if she didn't go to prom with Joffrey, well he would be angry with her, wouldn't he? And if she told the truth, he would get into trouble. And then what? He had already said that if she did not listen to him, she would end up like her father, hadn't she? Could Joffrey's anger lead to more than just bruises on her arm? And what about Cersei? Would she cut Sansa from the team because of Joffrey? If the gods were good and she could go back to practice, would she be welcomed back if she shamed Joffrey?

"Sansa, there is no need to stonewall. Just tell us what happened." Robb spoke up this time.

Sansa took a shaky breath, shaking her head. "I…I was just talking with Joffrey. He was asking me about something we were doing in class and was frustrated because he didn't understand the concept. It probably seemed like he was angry with me, but he never touched me or anything."

Sansa looked into her lap, her thumbs rolling round and round each other as her knee bounced.

"Are you sure that is what happened?" Robb asked, his mouth curving into a frown.

"That's what happened. And then Arya came bursting down the hallway and barged right into him. Sent him against the lockers. I knew it was going to lead to trouble and so I tried to intervene and got my nose knocked and my wrist caught up in the action." Sansa looked over to her mother, forcing herself to put on a wry smile. "It was kinda stupid of me in hindsight."

"Oh, honey, you could have really hurt yourself," Catlyn leaned forward, taking her daughter by the shoulders and pulling her close to her.

"Well, if that is the case, we will have to speak with both Arya and Joffrey and have the two make amends. We'll have to figure out what Arya's punishment should be, as well."

"Oh, but don't punish her!" Sansa felt the knot in her stomach tighten. "Please, she was probably just misunderstanding the circumstances, and she has been upset at Joffrey because she blames him for our dad dying or something along the lines of that. It was just a misunderstanding."

Varys shook her head. "I am sorry, Sansa, but we cannot let her get away with attacking another student. There was no need for that to happen, and we need to be sure it does not happen again."

"Just, please don't kick her off the team." Sansa pleaded.

"That is unavoidable, Sansa." Varys shook his head.

"She'll be better for it, Sasa. Don't worry," Robb shook his head. "She'll be angry, sure, but she'll get over it."

Catlyn ran her fingers through Sansa's hair. "Why don't you go sit out at the entrance and wait for me and Robb to come and get you when this is all over with?"

"Fine," Sansa said, her arms crossing over her body as she stood up from her chair.

"And Sansa, if anything does come up with Joffrey again, you'll be sure to tell me?" Varys asked.

"Yeah, but everything is fine. Okay?" She didn't look back as she walked through the door.

Arya was slumped on the chair, her arms crossed over her small body and she swung her suspended legs back and forth. She looked up at Sansa. "So, what are they going to do to Joffrey?"

"I'm sorry." Sansa answered her, talking her bag from the chair next to Arya. Arya looked at her with crossed eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" She scowled.

"Arya Stark," Varys called from the door again.

"Why am I being called in again? What is going on? Sansa?"

Sansa turned her back on her sister and pulled open the door to the principal's office, slamming it behind her.

She wiped at her running nose, wincing at the pain which shot up the damaged cartilage. Her eyes were aching from their swelling as well, tears fighting their way from down her bruised cheeks.

The hallway was quiet, spring sending the student's outside and out of the dark crammed halls of King's Landing High School. She was glad for the silence; it was embarrassing enough to have Joffrey react the way he did about not calling him.

She went out to the entrance and took to sitting on one of the benches. Her hand slid into her purse, desperately looking for a bottle of aspirin she usually kept in its depths.

"Holy fuck, you look like you were the one getting into the fight."

Sansa's head jolted upright and she saw Tyrion leaning against the wall across from her. She groaned, turning her head away from him. Of course he would be here, what could make this day anymore embarrassing?

"They told me it was Arya Stark." He laughed.

"It was Arya. I was a bystander." She replied. She pulled her purse onto her lap, shifting the contents to look for the bottle she now realized she must have emptied last week.

"Well, it must have been one hell of a brawl. Though I don't imagine my nephew being that great a fighter—considering he plays baseball while Arya has gotten quite well known in the rugby circles, or so I've heard." He crossed the room, holding out a bottle toward her. She looked at it hesitantly. "I was sent to pick up the little twerp. I figured he might want some painkillers for his losing match against your sister; upon the sight of you, however, I am think you are in much greater need."

Sansa reached forward and took the bottle from him. "Thanks," she muttered.

"So why exactly was my nephew going rounds with her?"

"It doesn't matter." Sansa opened the bottle and took two white pills, slipping them into her mouth. "I'm sure Joff will tell you soon enough."

"What if I don't want to hear Joff's side of it?"

"You really shouldn't be talking to me," Sansa looked up at him. "I'm a little young for you."

"What do you think I want to do? Fuck you?" Tyrion's green eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I'm not interested. I'm just being what they call neighborly."

"Yeah, well, I'm a Stark and you're a Lannister. We aren't even supposed to be civil." Sansa turned away from him.

"Why the cold shoulder?" He asked.

"I just don't want to talk about it." Sansa replied. "And I certainly don't want to talk about it with you."

"What did Joff say to you, Sansa?" Tyrion asked. She didn't want him to ask any more questions. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, the second hand ticking by so slowly. "Did he mention something about Saturday?"

"It doesn't matter." Sansa replied.

"If he said anything to you, Sansa, you don't have to be afraid to tell me."

"Yeah, well, he didn't say anything." Sansa stood, forcing Tyrion to take several steps backwards. "And even if he did, my dad got killed by your family. You think I'm going to trust you?" She glared down at him.

"Sansa!" Robb's voice called out, breaking the glare she maintained on Tyrion. She turned her head to see her brother turn the corner with her mother. Arya stalked before them, quickening her steps when she caught sight of Arya.

Sansa stepped around Tyrion, ignoring the man and his offer, as she went to rejoin her family. "Arya…"

"Get the hell away from me."

"Arya," Sansa tried again.

"Let her go; she's been cut from the team and she's just taking it harshly. She'll be able to return in the summer and participate all next year. It'll just give her something to think about." Robb put his hand on Sansa's shoulder.

"Mrs. Stark, Robb Stark," Tyrion cleared his throat, stepping toward the small family. Sansa wanted to push him out of the way and shout at him to leave her alone. Though, that could be as dangerous as doing the same to Joffrey, she warned herself.

"Tyrion Lannister," Catlyn's voice was stiff.

"I just wanted to apologize for this entire mess. And offer my help, if you are in need of anything."

"No, I think we are fine just at the moment." Her mother's voice was terse. "I think all we need is for you to keep your nephew away from our youngest daughter. That would suffice."

"Of course, and again, I apologize for any mess he might have caused."

"I think Arya did that all on her own, but it doesn't help to be provoked." Robb said, placing his arm around Sansa's. "Come on, Sasa, let's go get your sister before she attacks some other helpless bystander."

Sansa turned to look at Tyrion, her head raised as she looked down at him.  _Just leave me alone! You're going to make this so much worse!_ She thought at him, hoping it communicated through her glance. He seemed to get the message as he quickly stepped back, giving the three Starks a wide berth.

Sansa let out a sigh as she stepped out of the high school, but the sick feeling in her tummy only intensified. She hoped this would be the end of her troubles, but she had no doubt that it was only a terrible beginning.


	8. Arrow to the Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: HAHA I'm back! so sorry it's been a forever hiatus on this story, but time has been weird over the past few years and the Muses not good for this story. I know where I want to be, just got to get there.
> 
> In saying that, no Sansa and Tyrion interaction in this chapter. Next chapter YES, this chapter includes the continuation of some not nice things happening in this version of Kings Landing.

Sansa winced as she dabbed the concealer around her eyes. Almost a week later and the bruises were still there, though very much faded. Arya's anger, on the other hand, still burned.

"Would you get out of the  _fucking bathroom_?" The sound of her sister's voice caused Sansa to flinch once more, worried that her sister might indeed break down the door.

"Arya Lyanna Stark! Watch your language!" Came the scolding voice of Robb.

"Yeah, well fuck you too!" Sansa imagined Arya holding up the finger at their older brother.

With a sigh, Sansa gathered up her makeup in the small blue and white striped bag, grabbing the portable face mirror from the countertop. How she loathed sharing the bathroom with so many different people. Perhaps, once Joffrey had calmed down and seen sense, she could spend a night or two over at the mansion. Then she could have an entire bathroom to herself. She hoped that Joffrey's rage toward her would settle in the next few days. He seemed proud of her for taking his defense, but his texts were becoming less and less charming and increasingly infrequent. And in person he was becoming someone she was beginning to hate spending any time with.

Sansa picked up her phone and swiped to the home screen, hoping the green message icon would have a small red indication meaning he had returned her text from last night.

The app icon remained empty.

Either he was really pissed with her and she would be wise to avoid his criticisms today or he had merely forgotten about her.

She hated herself for accepting both options as the acceptable norm.

Sansa placed the phone in the pocket of her dress skirt before reaching for the doorknob and pulling it open. She barely glanced up at her sister as she tried to scoot past, the younger girl's dark features were scrunched up at her, Arya's fists balled up at her sides.

"Took you long enough," Arya grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Sansa rolled her blue eyes. "I'm out of the bathroom like you asked, now can you leave me alone?"

"I don't know," Arya answered, standing square in the doorway while her eyes bore into her sister's gaze. "Can you manage to tell the truth? I knew Pinocchio grew a long nose, I didn't realize Sansa got two black eyes."

Sansa groaned, turning her back on her sister as she returned to her bedroom where she had her desk set up as a small vanity. She wrinkled her nose as she entered the room, the smell of dog poop still hung in the air from the prank Arya had played on her several days earlier, stuffing her pillow case with a pile of the canine waste. Sansa had gagged as she cleaned up the mess, dumping her pillow in the trash, case and all, but she had taken the blow. She had deserved it, after all. She had lied.

But couldn't Arya realize it was for a good reason? That no one was going to be happy and it was a lot easier to deal with her sister hating her than Joffrey Baratheon?

Sansa winced at the realization, shaking the thought from her head as she concentrated on fixing her face.

Sansa shook her head as she took her seat in front of the white desk that was illuminated by fairy lights strung about the shelves overhead. Sansa placed her bag to her right and the mirror before her as she attended to her skin, carefully plucking at her long thin brows, filling them in, and very gingerly applying eyeliner, eyeshadow, and mascara. By the time she had finished, the black eyes were gone and her cheeks had a crease where her cheekbone lay underneath the swelling.

Her face the day after being slammed into the locker and elbowed by Arya had lost most of its shape, the black circles under her eyes were nearly ebony. She had stayed home from school, only to be plagued with feelings of guilt for not being honest and costing Arya a season of sport and texts from Joffrey begging her to forgive him for what he called 'losing his head'. He knew that Sansa wasn't into his uncle, because who but whores could be interested in his uncle?, and that he was so looking forward to escorting Sansa to prom. Sansa had saved those texts and kept looking back at them as he continued to drift, his attentions straying and his patience wearing thin as the week wore on.

Sansa took one last futile look at her phone before grabbing her backpack from the bed, slinging it over her shoulder. Pausing at the full-length mirror that was hung from her bedroom door, she examined her outfit for a sign of flaw.

How Joffrey hated flaws.

She was wearing a soft pale pink floral print dress that fell to her midthighs, a light white cardigan was layered overtop and she had paired the dress with white trainers that gave the entire outfit a casual feel. She had braided her red hair into a fishtail that fell over her shoulder. Sansa sighed heavily once more, giving herself a nod before she turned to leave the room.

"Sansa?"

Sansa lifted her gaze from the ground to see that Jon was standing before her. He was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, a black shirt covered his pale skin. He had allowed his scraggily beard to grow back and he was desperately in need of a haircut. His black curls were pulled back into a bun that rest on the crown of his head. Sansa rolled her eyes as she tried to walk past her half-brother.

"What?"

"How about I give you a ride today?"

"How about not," Sansa shook her head as she readjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"Sansa," Jon's brow raised. Sansa groaned.

"Fine," she sulked. "But only because I'm tired of walking to school."

"What happened to Margarey?"

"Jealousy," Sansa answered. "She's all mad that Joffrey likes me and not her."

"And that has nothing to do with the fact that you act like a total bitch around that douche?"

"And that," Sansa poked her finger into the man's chest, "is why Robb is my favorite brother and I'd rather you fall down and break your leg when you go to the skatepark."

"Wow," Jon held his hands out to his sides in a mock welcome. "Why don't you bring on the love today, Sansa?"

"Are you going to give me a ride or a lecture."

"Both," Jon grabbed her wrist before she could make her way around him again toward the front door.

"Jon!" Arya shouted. "Are you ready to go?"

"I am now, Yaya," Jon shouted back.

"Oh, oh  _hell_  no," Sansa shook her head, trying to pull out of the man's wrist.

"You two and your mouths," Jon shook his head. "C'mon, Sansa, let's go."

"I think I'll ask Robb instead."

"Absolutely not," Jon pulled her along with him. "Let's go."

Sansa followed, a frown fixed on her mouth as Jon dragged her onto the side porch. Arya was outside, leaning on the hood of his car.

"What is  _she_ doing here?"

"She is getting a ride with us." Jon answered as he let go of Sansa's wrist, pulling keys out from his pocket. "And you can't object," he pointed the fob at the younger sister. Arya groaned, her body falling mock limp, but she made her way around to the passenger side door, falling into the seat after throwing her backpack onto the floor.

Sansa held her head high as she chose the passenger seat behind Jon, not trusting that Arya wouldn't back her seat up into her long legs. Sansa settled into the seat, placing her backpack on the cushion next to her before buckling her seatbelt. She turned her face away from her sister to look out the window. Jon settled into the driver's seat in front of her, turning to smile first at Sansa and then at Arya before turning the key in the ignition.

"So the two of you  _can_  be in the same room without killing one another!" He said with far too much enthusiasm. Sansa and Arya groaned in response. "Hey now, this wouldn't be necessary if you two would just get over the crap!"

" _Me_?!" Arya shouted. "But she's the one who is a liar and she can't even have the vagina to admit when her stupid boy band boyfriend did something bad." She turned, her rage startling Sansa. "It's people like you that allow Robert Baratheon to be in charge and get father killed!"

"Arya Stark!" Jon shouted. "I understand you're angry, and I am sure there is more to the story than what Joffrey is saying, but Sansa in no way deserves that kind of accusation! You know she was as heartbroken over father as the rest of us were! Are!"

Arya sank back into her seat, defeated by the lashing. She crossed her arms over her chest, her head lolling over to look out the window. "Fine." She mumbled. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did about father."

Sansa remained quiet, not sure whether to trust her sister or to even respond.

"And Sansa?" Jon looked back at her in the rearview mirror, his dark eyes waiting for a response.

"What?" Sansa crossed her arms over her chest, too.

"Do you have something to say?"

Sansa's eyes narrowed as she looked back at her brother's reflection. "I could say I'm sorry a thousand times and Arya wouldn't give a shit. She doesn't care that I'm sorry, she's more worried about being on a sports team and getting dirty and winning. That is all she cares about."

"Sansa…" Jon's voice was lined with impatience.

"Fine," Sansa threw her arms up in the air. "I'm sorry, Arya, for not taking your side after everything that happened. Maybe when you discover that there is a thing in this world called love you'll realize it's not as black and white as you think it is."

"Yeah, well if you got your head out of your ass, you'd see that Joffrey is a terrible human being and that you should probably dump his ass before Robb finds out you're still texting him and you're planning on going to prom with him."

Jon sighed heavily, breaking the argument between the two. "Arya, Sansa," he shook his head. "You two are sisters; can't you let it go just for once. I know this was a big mess up, but if you don't just chill nothing is going to be solved! Besides, I talked with Robb and I explained that this is just prom, not marriage. And he's going to let Sansa go to prom with Joffrey."

"What?" Arya shouted. "I thought you were on my side."

"Arya, there are no sides. Try to be a little happy for Sansa. I understand the guy may be…a typical high school dude, but all they are doing is going to a dance. Harmless. Maybe they'll see each other in college, who knows."

"Of course we are!" Sansa shouted. "We're going to get married."

"Pump the breaks there, Sansa," Jon held up his hand. "Let's take this one day at a time."

"Yeah, you'd say that wouldn't you, Jon? The peacemaker without a backbone." Sansa wished desperately that Robb was here to take her side against their bastard brother, even if he was right angry with her going with Joffrey to prom.

"And you're an ungrateful bitch!" Arya shouted.

"Enough! Gods, you two are ridiculous," Jon groaned as he pulled into the cul-de-sac before the school. He put the car in park next to the pick-up/drop-off lane, his arm wrapping around the back of the chair so he could look at his half-sister simultaneously. "All the bad blood has been spilled here, now leave it. When you get out of this car, you are going to stop this ridiculous feud, you are going to act like sisters, and, for the sake of the gods old and new, you are going to  _stop using our house as a warzone_. The gentlemen in our house are through with it. Now shake hands and make up."

Sansa's narrowed eyes met Arya's, but the two obeyed Jon, putting out hands to shake once. Sansa cringed as she made a truce with Arya, even if it was a short one.

"Good, now it's over. Done. I don't want to hear about it anymore." Jon groaned. "Go to school. And, for gods' sakes, please don't get expelled."

"I wouldn't because I actually care about other people," Sansa grumbled as she grabbed her bag, quickly ducking out of the car. Jon rolled down his window so that he could catch her attention as she walked by.

"I'm serious, Sansa. You did nothing good for Arya." He said.

"Are you saying I owe her?"

"In a sense, yes!" Jon shook his head. "But that doesn't matter. Peace and working together are far more important. Mum's really stressed out right now because of the bills and the last thing she needs is the two of you fighting."

Sansa's cheeks burned as she learned about the situation. "Don't tell Robb I told you, Sansa, because he wouldn't want you to know, but things are looking a bit bleak right now. Go to school, get good grades so you can get a scholarship, and just get along with Arya, do you think you can do that?"

Sansa watched as the younger girl bounded up the pavement toward a group of friends. "If it's for Mum, fine."

"I knew you were a bright girl," Jon smiled. "Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, it's fine," Sansa adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "I think I want to walk home."

"Okay," Jon said. "I'm only a phone call away if you need anything— Robb isn't your only older brother."

 _But he's my only older legitimate brother_ , Sansa thought. "I know. Thanks," she offered him a sweet smile instead.

"Have a good day, Sansa."

"You too."

Sansa didn't look back as she made her way along the drop off area, one thumb tucked under the strap of her bag as she slunk into the school, wishing that she had come up with some excuse not to come in today. She let out a long sigh as she walked through the double door entrance into the crowd of students milling about, hoping just for once she could blend in with everyone else. But as soon as she entered the lobby, she heard Joffrey calling for her, his heavy arm wrapping about her neck in a vice grip as he littered her with affections and forcing her down the hall toward his semi-circle of friends who all looked as hungry to devour her as she was.

And Sansa finally realized she was tired of this.

* * *

The table she sat at was empty, a welcome relief to the crowd of people that Joffrey kept about at all times.

The accusations Jon and Arya had flung at Sansa regarding Joffrey swam through her head all morning. How he was a douche, how he was a massive asshole. And with shame, Sansa had to accept that some of this was true. Most of this was true.

She hated herself by third block, after spending an entire study hall with Joffrey and  _his_ friends. Not hers. Never hers.

She was only expected to hang off his shoulder like eye candy, winking her eyes flirtatiously at the baseball players whom Joffrey associated with, reminding them that she was both desirable and unavailable. The girls that fluttered about her, vapid and clueless bathed in perfumes and temporary tattoos and gold headbands, were as eager to get Joffrey's attention as Sansa had once been. Many leered at her under heavily lined lids, scowls creeping across perfectly painted lips. This afternoon Sansa had let go of Joffrey's shoulder to float away from the group, which earned her a public reprimand, sending her back to her boyfriend's side.

This lunch, however, was one that Joffrey did not share with her. Her small solace of peace that she was become more desperate for as the week dragged on. She looked across the room to where several cheerleaders sat, all laughing with sandwiches poised in hand. Sansa remembered being one of them, with her fiery locks pulled back into a long ponytail and adorned with a red ribbon.

 _No_ , Sansa reached up and brushed away a tear that tickled the corner of her eye.  _It was never the girls here_ , she reminded herself.

Sansa reached into her bag, pulling her cellphone from the outside pocket. Awakening the screen, she flipped past the picture of her family surrounding her father in a candid moment of someone cracking a joke and all responding. Sansa had meant to change the screensaver for weeks but could not bring herself to do so. Flicking open to her home screen with a quick blink to banish several more tears, she beheld the picture of her old cheerleading team posed in Winterfell High School's gymnasium. A lithe girl stood at Sansa's side, her cheek pressed into Sansa's as she beamed brightly.

 _Jeyne Poole_ , Sansa smiled sadly as she opened the picture folder on her phone. Scrolling through the pictures of family moments and friends left behind in the cold north, Sansa felt her heart bursting with desperate nostalgia. So many people and places and things she had left behind thinking she would have a better life here.

"And for what?" Sansa mumbled to herself. "For some state winning champs? For Joffrey?" Sansa mocked herself, locking her phone as she wiped at her nose, sniffing away her sorrow. Of course Joffrey had to be worth it, he was the whole reason she was alone.

There had to be some payoff for all the bullshit she was dealing with. He was testing her, making sure she was staying with him because of who he was and not because he was the mayor's son. A litmus test to prove her genuineness, she tried to reason with her intuition, push away the bile crawling up her throat with optimistic thinking.

He'd stop all of this high school shit when he graduated, right?  _Mum always said that Jon and Robb were always behind in maturity because teen boys are nothing but hormones and high hopes_.

"Are you alright?" A voice startled Sansa, causing the girl to falter. She tucked her phone back into her bag, wiping at her nose again, and shook her head to brush out her hair.

"Hmmm, uhm, yes!" Sansa forced a smile as she looked up. She was surprised to meet Margaery's icy blue stare. Sansa shuddered, her gaze dropping to her hands as she let go her guard. "Not that you'd much care, would you?"

Margaery let loose her airy laugh, taking her place in the seat across from the table from Sansa. "I would very much like to revel in your misfortune at the moment, Sansa Stark, as you have been nothing but a gitless girl since you started talking to Joffrey Baratheon, but," Margaery inhaled as she picked at the fringes of her purse-bag, "my grandmother says that there is little joy in taking pleasure in the misfortunes of others."

Sansa wanted to say something to Margaery, to get back at her, but she found that she could not. "What's eating you?" Margaery asked, leaning back in her chair.

"Nothing," Sansa muttered. "Just probably PMS or something."

"Bullshit."

"It doesn't matter," Sansa shook her head. "I have other things to focus on."

"Oh, right, like prom and going with Joffrey, right?"

Sansa winced as she dared to look across the table at her friend. "I thought that you'd be mad about me having to change plans— "

"Cut the shit, Sansa," Margaery laughed mockingly. "We both know that you are not at all crying at night about being around Joffrey."

'No, Margaery— that's not…that's not true." Sansa placed her hands over her face as soon as she said it.

"Oh? Has the great Sansa Stark had some thoughts about her current beau?"

"He just…he gets real weird," Sansa said. "And last week when he…when he got into that scuffle with Arya…I…I lied."

"That's not surprising." Margaery smirked with that sidewise grin she always had.

"I messed things up real bad, but I know that I can't go back on it or Joffrey will be mad at me."

"What's going on, Sansa?" Margaery asked.

Sansa's fisted rolled into balls on her lap. "I…please don't say this to  _anyone_ , Margaery, this has to stay between you and me."

"Okay, fine," Margaery crossed her arms over her blue blouse, her mouth scrunching into a further scowl. "Spill it, though, before I get bored."

"Joff…well, he's gotten mad at me a couple of times. Last week was the first time that he hit me, but he always makes these awful comments to me when we're hanging out or when I do something he doesn't particularly like."

"So why are you still with him?" Margaery asked, catching Sansa by surprise.

"I mean, it's just a phase, right? Like in kindergarten when boys are mean to you because they like you."

"Do they teach you anything in the north, Sansa?" Margaery laughed. "Boys who are taking you to prom are past the age of kindergarten and do not pull on your ponytails if they like you. You're being a fool staying with him if he's really all that bad."

"Are you saying you don't believe me?"

"No." Margaery shook her head. "I'm saying, don't stay with him if he does that to you."

"But I can't do that to him before prom! That would be so…so tacky!"

Margaery's glance was cast downward as her thin brows rose. Her arms were still crossed over her chest as she leaned back in the chair. "I think there are bigger things to worry about, Sansa, than tacky."

"Promise me you won't say anything to anyone."

"Sansa, I may hate you at the moment, but I'm not going to try to ruin your life. It sounds like you are doing a good enough job yourself."

The words hit Sansa like a sound slap, the girl recoiling as Margaery stood. "I do need help on my art project, however, and since you have some sense of design, I would appreciate your help."

Sansa's blue eyes widened as she looked up to her former friend, her mouth hanging open for a moment before she nodded. "Yes…yes absolutely, of course!"

"So you can meet me afterschool? We can go to my house for a little bit?"

"Right, yes! Absolutely!"

"Okay, good," Margaery grabbed her purse from the table. "I'll meet you in the lobby at the end of school."

"Sounds like a plan," Sansa grinned.

Sansa retrieved her phone as Margaery walked away from Sansa and toward the table where several of her friends sat. She opened her home screen again, quickly scrolling through her messages until she saw Robb's name.

_**I'm going to be late coming home— I got asked to help with an assignment.** _

Sansa felt her heart soar with hope as she thought about all the things she could say to try to apologize to Margaery for her neglect over the past few weeks.

The sound of an incoming message grabbed Sansa's attention.

_**I hope it's not with that idiot boyfriend of yours** _ **.**

Sansa cringed, finding her defensive of the young man despite the whining she had just done to Margaery.  _That's what girls do, right?_ Sansa assured herself of her flip flopping emotions.  _They have their mind set one moment and then change it the next._

_**No, Margaery T. Helping with art assignment.** _

_**Okay…have fun. I'll come pick you up** _ **.**

_**K. See you later. LOL.** _

_**LOL to you too, sis.** _

Sansa giggled at the inside joke the two shared; her father, when he was alive, had once sent the sentiment, LOL, to a host of his coworkers after one young man on the Winterfell police had been killed in a house raid further north. Several of the men had been really confused and it wasn't until Robb had caught wind of the situation and explained to the patriarch that LOL did not, in fact, mean lots of love, but rather laugh out loud. Robb had relayed the story to Sansa later that afternoon when he picked her up from cheerleading practice. From that moment on, the acronym had been used amongst the family members as an endearing term and not one that expressed joy.

The memory made Sansa's heart shudder with sadness, but the pain was eclipsed with the hope of being able to reconnect with a friend she thought she had surely lost.

* * *

"And that is why I am so over this week and can't wait until prom and graduation is over." Margaery groaned as she pulled her car into the long drive of her family's large house. She had been telling Sansa about some drama that had been happening between she and a girl in her government class; the girl seemed to think that spreading vicious gossip about Margaery in response to being chewed out over her lack of involvement in a group project by the Tyrell would end well for her. Margaery was too well loved by people all over the school, however, for such accusations to stick and the girl had instead received the cunning wrath of Margaery, who had spilled glue accidentally on the table during the poster construction time and asked the girl to help her clean it up. The glue had not been innocuous white glue, however, but had been superglue Margaery had explicitly placed there for that purpose. Sansa had nearly keeled over with laughter as soon as Margaery had shared her devious plan.

"Mr. Pycelle, gods bless the old man, couldn't figure out what to make of the situation and kept berating Sallie for using super glue and not a regular glue stick. I had no idea how this could have happened, of course." Margaery let out a carefree giggle. "The old fool hadn't the slightest that I had been the one to trap the little bitch."

Sansa shook her head. "Oh Margaery Tyrell, I will never understand how you get away with this!"

Margaery grinned as she pulled in the large garage the family owned, parking her car furthest from the door. "It's because no one would expect such a good, smart girl like me could do such a horrible cruel thing like that!" She opened the door of her car, sliding out from it and twirling the keys in her hand as she did so. "You just have to make them  _think_  you are innocent, Sansa. You don't need to actual be a darling."

Sansa nodded her head in agreement as she hiked her backpack up her shoulder, following Margaery across the garage and into the side door of the Tyrell's house. The sound of one of the national talk shows,  _The Daily Raven_ , was turned up high.

"I'm home!" Margaery let loose a sing-songy call.

"Hush, child!" A weary voice shushed her from the next room.

"Oh, but Grandmother Olenna, haven't you missed me?"

"As Dragonstone the Targaryens, bur I need to keep up with my gossip!" Sansa continued on Margaery's heels as the girl entered a sitting room toward the back of the house. The old Tyrell matriarch, Olenna, sat in an elegant gown, her wrinkled fingers running over a set of pearls as her weak eyes were glued to the giant flatscreen television mounted to the wall. A tall platinum blonde girl graced the screen, her soft violet eyes blinking as the flashes of the camera burst over and over, blinding her.

"Dany Targaryen has just come out of her period of mourning since her husband died," Olenna explained as a croaked finger pointed toward the image on the screen. " _That_ is a woman you need to keep your eye on, Marge!"

"Yes grandmother," Margaery embraced her grandmother in a hug, placing a kiss on the woman's wizened cheek. "As you tell me every time she's on the screen. Isn't she a Khal and not a Targaryen?"

"As much as you'd be a Baratheon and not a Tyrell if you married that mayor's foolish soon!" The woman guffawed. "Who have you brought here, child?"

"Sansa Stark," Margaery looked over her shoulder at her friend.

"Come to your senses, have you girl?"

"Wha…what?" Sansa's head cocked as her eyes narrowed. "I mean…I'm sorry, I don't quite know what you mean."

"Women are gossips, Sansa, that is a fact you must know," Olenna said as she grabbed hold of a cane that was tucked over the arm of the couch. "I have heard all about your fancies with that brainless Baratheon bastard." Olenna shook as she pushed herself to her feet, her back hunching as she stood to her short height.

"No…Joffrey and I are still together. At least for now…" Sansa worried her hands before her waist.

"Ha! I suspected as such!" Olenna laughed. "I told you, Marge, did I not! You should listen to your silly old grandmother every once in awhile."

"Yes, grandmother." Margaery rolled her eyes but followed after her grandmother with reverential patience.

"What are you doing here in the modest Tyrell abode, Sansa Stark of Winterfell?"

"I'm helping Margaery with an art project."

"I thought that idiot boyfriend of yours was coming over again for dinner," Olenna barked at her granddaughter.

"He is, but he's always here. Sansa is not. She can help me with my art project and then stay for dinner too," Margaery turned to look at her friend. "That is, if she wishes and her hovering brother allows."

"I can have him pick me up after dinner, I am sure he wouldn't mind." Sansa assured her friend.

"Don't shame that precious Stark boy too much, the poor child lost his father and their sensible mother is at her wit's end. I am sure that pack does not trust a single one of us down here in King's Landing. And they shouldn't!" Olenna shook her finger at Sansa. "You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," Olenna shuffled out of the room. "I'm going to take my nap, Margaery."

"I shall have your tea ready in twenty minutes, then." Margaery called after the woman. "She drinks some herbal remedy her doctor has given her to help her aching joints." She explained to Sansa who nodded.

Sansa followed Margery into the hall and through the large kitchen where two cooks were working together to prepare a meal. The island in the center was crowded with vegetables and meats and cheeses. The smell made Sansa's stomach curl with delight.

"I don't have to stay for dinner if Renly's coming." Sansa insisted as she tailed Margaery into a large study off of another long hall.

"Renly is here all the time— we are practically married." The girl grinned. "Besides, he hasn't seen Loras in so long and the two of them are such good friends that I am sure they will spend the entire dinner reminiscing about gross guy things and I'll be left rolling my eyes. Your presence will be a welcome treat."

"Okay," Sansa agreed tentatively. "So…what is this project you're working on."

"A collage that represents me— which I'm not entirely sure what I want on it." Margaery admitted as she extracted a handful of teen and women magazines from her backpack, which she dropped on the large table in the center of the study with a loud  _thunk_. Margaery then went to a cupboard in the corner where she pulled out a piece of poster board. "I know you've creative, and you know me well enough— think of this as payback for being a bitch to me since you've started dating Joffrey."

Sansa made a face at her friend, but paused to take a sweeping glance of the beautiful Tyrell girl, with her long brown curls and her bright blue eyes. Her crooked sneer-smile and her pert nose. She took in the blue of her tied midi-shirt and her high waisted black jeans, her cute white heels giving her several inches on her short frame beneath.

"I have just the idea," Sansa hummed as she began to dive into the magazines to find the pictures she wanted.

The hour went quickly as Sansa cut and placed and centered and angled and layered and mixed pictures and colors and fabrics and patterns into an eye catching posted that Margaery approved of gleefully with each added layer. Margaery left for a time to fix her grandmother's tea, returning with blushing compliments for the Stark girl's swift handiwork in the time she was gone. Such praise was only background noise for Sansa as she continued to work on Margaery's project. She did not even hear the honking of the horn at the front of the drive until Margaery pulled at her arm.

"C'mon, that's Loras and Renly, we should go greet them and get them something to eat."

"Oh shit," Sansa mumbled as she wiped her glue filled hands together. "I need to text Robb and let him know that I'm coming home late after dinner or he's gonna show up and join us."

"Great, we don't need  _another_ man at the dinner table." Margaery rolled her eyes as she bounded to her feet. Sansa followed, picking off the bits of glue as she trailed her friend through the large house.

Renly and Loras were just getting out of Renly's car when Margaery opened the door wide, stepping out onto the stoop and shading her eyes against the sun to see the two.

"Is that my delinquent boyfriend and my troublesome brother?"

"Who else would be as thick as thieves?" Renly asked as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning against his car as he smirked at Margaery knowingly. Loras joined the man's side, mirroring the man's stance. His clean-shaven face and golden curls were in stark contrast to Renly's neat beard and dark crown of straight hair.

"I think you should go find some other corner to loiter on, this one is taken by classier folk." Margaery reached back and looped her arm about Sansa's, pulling her forward.

"I see you've brought a friend, too!" Renly laughed. "Too many females at one table could prove to be a threat to my health."

"Oh, you dine with Cersei too often to not be able to handle me, Sansa, and Grandmother Olenna." Margaery teased. "Now come and get ready for dinner or you'll keep us and the food will be cold and the cooks will be unhappy."

"Give me a minute. I need to move some stuff in my car since you're brother completely rearranged it," Renly elbowed Loras, whose cheeks were red. Renly opened the back door of his car as Loras crept forward toward the girls.

"How are you, Miss Stark?" He asked Sansa with a soft voice. Sansa felt her heart leap into her chest as Loras came closer. He was a very handsome young man, with dimples in his round cheeks and a brightness to his blue eyes. He would be the kind of man she would love to date one day if things did not work between she and Joffrey.

And now that Loras took her hand and kissed it poetically, Sansa sincerely hoped that things would go downhill with this man's nephew.

"I…I am well."

"Ready for prom next week and school to be over, I am certain." Loras winked. He let go of Sansa's hand and enveloped his sister in a hug, kissing her cheek roughly.

"I am counting down the days until graduation for the both of us." Margaery laughed.

"Enjoy the time of your life, little sister. Nothing gets easier when you get older." The man said as she stepped past his sister and into the house.

"Ever the gallant poet, my sweet brother." Margaery beckoned back to him. She then turned, her eyes narrowing against the bright dying sun toward Renly.

"Ren, babe, are you coming?"

Renly extracted himself from the backseat of his car, shutting the door gently and brushing his hands together before turning to face where Margaery stood on the stoop, her hands on her hips.

"Are you impatient enough yet, dearest?"

"For your arms and your mouth, eternally, my beloved." Margaery grinned. "I found that poem in Loras' room, d'you like it?"

"Love it, you know how I adore your plagiarized, Loras-penned verses." Renly grinned. "Alright, Marge, I think it's time that…"

But Renly did not finish what he was going to say as his body jerked. Sansa's brows crossed on her forehead as the man let out a low grunt, taking several staggering steps forward. His hands reached toward his head, but seemed to lose all energy before they passed his shoulders. He took another shaking plunge forward, and then collapse on the ground.

"Renly?" Margaery cried as she hurried towards him. "Renly? What's going on, c'mon, stop fucking around." Margaery's voice grew tight with concern as she swiftly descended the steps. "Renly?"

Sansa followed as her friend approached the still body of her boyfriend, hesitant to insert herself in the midst of what must be a practical joke. Margaery's steps turned into a sprint until she crashed at her boyfriend's side with an ear-piercing scream.

Sansa's feet quickened into a run to her friend's side where she saw had happened to the youngest Baratheon.

An arrow was stuck through his head, the pointed end burrowed so deep it all that was left was the feathered shaft sticking out from his dark hair. Blood seeped from the wound onto the pavement, his lifeless eyes looking forward.

Sansa felt her world turn black as she beheld the gruesome body.

She barely felt her own head hit the pavement as she succumbed to the darkness and welcomed the numbness that silenced her brain and comforted her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things don't translate perfectly from the book, but that was never the intention of this story. Just to borrow themes and characters and ideas. Plus- I LOVE writing Sansa interacting with her siblings much more than in the books. I think that will probably be one of the biggest differences in this adaptation!
> 
> So I hope you like this. And keep an eye out for the next chapter coming (hopefully) soon!
> 
> As always, leave a like/comment/favorite/follow/bookmark if you can!
> 
> Fairfarren,
> 
> Lydia


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